


City of the Walking Dead: Season 3

by iMachine



Series: City of the Walking Dead [3]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iMachine/pseuds/iMachine
Summary: Any survivor can attest that the first winter was hard enough. But a year later and winter is already looming again. Subsequent to the separation of a small group, we'll follow the remaining survivors and see how far they've managed to make it after the apocalypse has severely changed the world around them. In a deteriorating world, one must find a place where they truly belong.





	1. S03E01: "Welcome to the Underworld"

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest reading the chapters with instrumental soundtracks (e.g. The Last of Us, The Walking Dead games, Game of Thrones) or any soundtrack you see fit.
> 
> You can also find this story on fanfiction.net under the same username.

Emberly ran like hell, pelting past various timeworn strangers as if she was some type of mini-linebacker. She looked over her shoulder, seeing two mid-aged men and one woman chasing her. The oblong man, in particular, was the fleetest of them all and was closing in on her in seconds,

"STOP!" he screamed.

As she faced forward, she saw the turnstiles she aimed for coming closer. From a failed past attempt, elegantly hurdling over them wasn't an option for someone her size. She instantly dropped to her knees and started crawling underneath as quickly as she could. Suddenly, she yelped after feeling a firm hold on her left ankle,

"Got you now you little crook!" A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing two front missing teeth.

She positioned her free foot on the other side of the turnstile and used it as leverage. She pushed against the turnstile with all her might and powerfully reeled him in, causing him to jam his nose into the steel arms of the turnstile. He was prompted to release her and she hopped up to continue fleeing. Immediately running down the left stairs, she shoved past the multiple pushers and sex workers loitering on the inoperable escalators. Skipping the last step, she turned around, seeing all three of her pursuers still on her tail. They were far more careless, knocking women and strangers on their hindquarters and even pushing one person over to the next set of stairs beside it. Once she reached the bottom, Emberly quickly cut around the corner and ran deeper into the dimly lit underground. Vendors inside and outside of the train carts were all drawn to her commotion as she stepped on people's feet and nearly turned over tables. They heard Emberly's stalkers constantly call for someone to apprehend her. She ran in zig-zags to lose her enemies, running through the empty carts on both sides of the vast platform to divert them but they were too close to lose sight of her. As long as she could see them, they could see her. Out of the blue, a musty looking gentleman grabbed Emberly by the hood of her coat, having her feet practically halt in mid-run. She fought to get out of his hold but was limited compared to his size.

"I got her!" he bellowed over and over.

Just like nearly everyone else in this hellhole, he seemed like another madman. Emberly shouted, fighting her hardest to get out this weirdo's grip, seeing the recognizable three figures walk closer and closer. It felt like impending doom as she remembered their threats to clip off her fingers if they ever caught her again. They let her slide the first time but it seemed like they weren't the kind of people to step back on their promises just because she was a child. This place was no playground for a child seeing that orphans like herself were used for other people's ulterior motives. Suddenly the touchy madman felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around only to get dropped to the edge of the platform by a powerful blow to the face. Emberly turned and looked up, seeing a tall figure in a brown trench coat and grey beanie: Noel. He walked into the closest train and walked towards the end. He opened the doors, on the inside, that lead to the following cart. He waited for her, looking at Emberly who watched him debatably before realizing that the people chasing her were nearly through the crowd. Noel's overall existence was revolting to her but if it meant escaping, she could use him to her advantage for now. She certainly never asked for it but he had gotten her out of some well-deserved pickles multiple times ever since she arrived. Looking down at the unconscious bozo, she kicked him and called him a 'jackass' before running into the next cart as Noel followed.

Reaching the furthermost end of the train, they both made their exit and ended up at the margins of the underground station. Despite the burn barrels and multiple vendors & campers, the far ends, on either side of the subway, still happened to be spacious, which seemed to be the reason why so many people congregated around the ends in the first place. Unable to squeeze through them like the little girl, Noel violently shoved past someone. He unapologetically knocked them over and trotted across until he spotted Olimpia sitting in a circle with a bunch of meek elders,

"Olimpia," he whispered.

Seeing that she didn't answer the first time due to the noise, he called her again, but louder. It was a rule of hers he didn't want to break, startling the old souls that resided in the Underworld. She looked over her shoulder to see the same boy that Emberly told her rather unspeakable stories about. He was the young man that ultimately landed Emberly in Julien's house. By the looks of it, he was clearly out of breath,

"What?" she answered very basically.

"Where is she?" He looked rather impatient.

"Sleeping. I think," she stood up and looked aside of him. She could see Emberly growing anxious of her surroundings and suddenly freaking out as three individuals revealed themselves outside of a small crowd,

"What the hell's going on?"

"Just get her! Go!" Noel screamed, flashing that good ol' temper of his.

Olimpia ran into the train on the opposite side of the track that Emberly and Noel emerged from—the one closest to her. A good quarter of this train, however, was partially stalled in the tunnel. She walked a good two to three carts until she reached the last one. It was dimly lit by flickering lights. The air felt stuffy and filthy. There were people who slept in sleeping bags and wrapped up blankets both underneath and on the seats. Finally, she located the familiar figure. Approaching them as their back was turned, Olimpia tapped them on the shoulder, attempting to wake them. She called their name repeatedly until they finally answered,

"I'm awake," they grumbled.

"It's Emberly, she's in trouble."

That was all that needed to be said. They followed Olimpia to the outside of the cart, only to see Emberly being grappled by a bunch of strange people she had certainly seen before. Fighting for them to release her was Noel. Things must have gone haywire to bring them to this point. People were either cheering on the squabble or cursing at the group for being so disruptive. Only once in a while did fights become so bad that people had to step in to break it up. She was so nonplussed that she remained still to process whatever the hell was going on before her very eyes. How did her thirteen-year-old cousin, who started off afraid of her own shadow, could cause such a scene over and over again was beyond her. However, feeling like it was dealt to her, Emberly being pushed to the ground was enough to jumpstart a reaction,

"HEY!" Ada screamed.

The sole woman of the group, responsible for pushing Emberly, turned to look at her. Ada soared across the wide platform, receiving a welcoming smirk from the woman who beckoned her over with both hands and pulled out a butterfly knife. As Ada dashed towards her, she leaped and brought up a knee. The smile on her opponent's face was wiped clean off within seconds, realizing that this young girl wasn't your everyday scrapper from the Underworld. Suddenly, she was kneed in the bosom and flew back into a thick glass barrier that wrapped itself around staircases that led to the lower and upper levels. The glass cracked as her back painfully struck it. She was stunned and unable to get up from the immense pain that ran through both her sternum and back. After Ada victoriously overshadowed her, she returned her attention to where Emberly laid but she was nowhere in sight.

As her eyes searched around, she lingered in Noel's direction and noticed him attempting to hold his own against one of the biggest bodies in the group. This man must have been a former boxer because his evasiveness was on a graceful level. Roughly a minute later, Noel had a bloody bottom lip and was still trying to fight back before he could be painfully body-slammed onto the platform. The man placed one foot on his chest and got weirdly aroused by seeing Noel trying to scream through his bloody, clenched teeth.

"Let's see if I can break you," the man said.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his lower leg that forced him to let out a deafening yell. He fell to one knee and looked down, seeing Emberly remove a knife from his thick calf, having blood squirt out upon its removal. Once unpinned, Noel reached for the nearest vendor's table and grabbed the first scrap he could find,

"I hope you're gonna pay for that!" the vendor coughed.

Ignoring them, Noel quickly struck the big bald man in the face with a rusty frying pan. He fell to the ground, holding his head as if it were ringing. The third individual was the one Emberly called Toothless—the man with the missing teeth. Wanting to pick a fight of his own, he approached Olimpia as she backed away,

"Please, I have nothing to do with this…"

"You're a pretty one," he stuck his tongue out his mouth and did some rather profane gestures with it. He finished, "You're coming back with me."

"Oh, screw this," she said, evidently sickened to her stomach.

She dug into her leather coat and uncloaked a Ruger GP100 revolver. Toothless sprang back with his hands up, deeply regretting everything he said to her. Anyone would've thought otherwise but loaded firearms were almost a rarity, especially since they weren't allowed past the entrance. After aiming it at him, she pointed it to the ceiling and fired two deafening bullets into the air. The rowdy crowd silenced themselves as limping bystanders cowered away and the men fighting her party instantly broke off.

"This fight is finished," she boldly demanded, shoving her gun back into her coat.

"No it ain't!" the biggest man snarled before taking a painful step forward.

Emberly jumped behind her oldest cousin, who was fully prepared to take the big guy on. Hidden within her long coat sleeves, was Mathieu's former switchblade, and she was willing to murder someone to protect her cousin. She had done it before and, despite the nightmares, she'd do it again if it meant safety.

"Come on, Geoff, just let them go," the aching woman of the group groaned.

She would at least hope her comrades would wisely follow suit and admit defeat by a bunch of energetic kids.

"This is the second time this little thief stole from us!" Geoff announced to the entire subway.

"I didn't take anything!" Emberly hissed back. Every one of her companion's faces looked down at her, only because they knew she was fibbing, but she had to keep her story up or else they'd all be dead. She couldn't bear to be the blame for that, "I was only looking around, I swear! It's not my fault every time I walked past there, Toothless the Dragon has to accuse me of something."

Toothless grew red,

"WHAT!?" He screamed in offense at the nickname given to him, "My name's Hugh! H-U-G-H! Hugh!"

"Look, I'm sure this is just one whole misunderstanding," Noel said from the sidelines. He rubbed his ashy hands together, attempting to sell the image of the first-rate salesman he clearly wasn't, "How about I give you guys a really good discount? Huh? Whaddya say?"

"Discount? That little bitch stabbed my leg," Geoff answered after a long moment of silence.

"Hey, watch your mouth!" Ada became disgusted.

Noel watched Geoff limp,

"For starters, I have a friend who can patch that leg up really well for you. I'm very sorry about hitting you with cookware, you would've killed me if I didn't. Also…."

While Noel broke off from the girls to negotiate with the gang of three, Emberly was violently yanked to the side by her hood. She kept her composure as she walked backward. Olimpia walked after them and stopped just as Ada did, desiring to be out of earshot from their intimidators. As badly as Ada wanted to explode, she was just far too exhausted by it. All of it. It had certainly been a long day and Emberly just wasn't making things easy since the first few months she arrived.

"What the hell did you take from them?" Ada whispered.

Emberly looked up at both of them. Their demeanors were a lot different than one another but they were both disappointed. Their arms were crossed but Ada had a line that wasn't meant to be crossed and she was growing fretful. Ashamed of her actions, she slipped her tiny backpack off and unzipped it. Reaching inside, she secretly revealed five Roman candle fireworks. Ada dug both hands through her naturally wavy hair, scratching around her hairline in complete frustration. Olimpia shook her head at the debacle and momentarily glanced away. Emberly shoved them back in her backpack, unable to look up at them after owning up to the truth,

"You're really gambling your chances here…" Ada whispered, " _Our_ chances. Emberly, you know you can't mess with these people. These people will kill us if they have the chance!"

"I'm sorry! I just thought they were really pretty!" she took them out her bag again, "They're purple!"

Ada forcefully shoved them back into Emberly's bag before they were spotted and zipped it shut. The good in Emberly asked if she could return it, but they were too deep in this shit now to do anything to possibly make up for it. She went down on one knee and held her firmly by the shoulders. This time, she seemed less confrontational and expressed herself with a little more tenderness, hoping it would change things,

"We don't have time for games, Emberly. Before you found me, it was just you and Olimpia. We're all you've got at this point and you can't keep doing this or else something really bad can happen to us."

"What about Noel…?" Emberly muttered as she glanced away.

"What?" Ada was taken off guard.

"Noel helps me sometimes…"

She wasn't totally sure whether it had registered in the youngster's head or not but she made it back to her feet in case she was wasting her time. Having her back turned to the crowd, she sighed and looked over her shoulder, seeing Noel exchange firm handshakes and walk away from the very man who nearly beat his face in. He picked up a nearby bag, hung it diagonally across his body, and walked towards them. Olimpia knew that she was a part of this group but she did her part. She scurried off, having to urgently relieve herself. Noel fancied her as she walked past him, ignoring him as if he were any other resident in the Underworld. Harsh—but seeing that she socialized with Ada and Emberly all day, her first impression of him wasn't a good one. He approached Ada and Emberly, feeling an unwelcomed vibe from both of them. He took a couple of steps back to not intrude on their personal space. He had seen Ada around the Underworld but usually from a distance and it was normally when she was entering and exiting. Others might even argue that he stalked her from time to time but he got a sense of relief knowing that she was alive. He nervously lifted a hand and waved at them,

"Hey…" he greeted with a narrow smirk, however, it died pretty quick seeing that they didn't say anything back. He buried his hands in his pockets, offended by their silence, "You're seriously not gonna talk to me?" Ada stared back at him, conducting herself a lot firmer than he could. He scoffed in disbelief, "I just saved your cousin's life."

"I think you owe that to her after almost killing her the first time," After a moment of silence, she began to speak again, "My family is dead, Noel."

"My family died too," he added. She scoffed and attempted to walk away but he blocked her off by taking a small step and placing up hands to show that he didn't want any trouble, "Look, I understand now that that was my fault. But I've learned from my mistakes, Ada. You've helped me realize that. You can't avoid me forever."

"...Why not? That was our plan when we were separated from our family. We made a truce to look out for each other until we found refuge and we did," Noel looked at the ground but she wasn't finished with him, "Didn't we?"

He took a while to answer, eventually nodding. She pushed past him and stormed off. After watching her vanish among a crowd, he looked back down at Emberly, who had yet to wander off with her. She had an unclear look behind her spectacles and examined Noel's face. From where she stood, she could tell that he was really hurting. It was an expression she had personally experienced herself,

"I get it if you hate me, too," he expressed to her.

She curled her lips inward and glanced away before walking off and going about her own business.

* * *

The Underworld was an unofficial name for the place that Ada and Emberly resided. There was really no main title for it yet other than "the subway". But due to its heinous nature from all types of survivors far and wide, The Underworld was just as fitting. It was flooded with people and practically an underground metropolis. It was a place that was maintained even after the outbreak. Staff and workers stayed behind, brought their families along and did a phenomenal job at keeping it from ever flooding or falling apart. What they didn't expect was for half the city to cluster up down here and make the place an out of control quarantine zone. There was a council that was barely ever seen and the only thing they rewarded people with was half-decent lights and a place to sleep. Everything else like food, water, and any other currency was up for residents to get on their own. And if there weren't people wrapped like burritos in blankets and sleeping bags, there were vendors with makeshift tables, selling things from candles to scraps all along the platform.

The same night of the incident, Ada was having trouble falling asleep until she finally did. Unfortunately, not even five hours later, she woke up again to people quarreling on the train. One woman, in particular, would come on and pickpocket people while they were asleep. On her first night, Ada had a gold necklace that she found taken from her and vowed to never sleep with anything on her again.

Looks like she finally got caught red-handed for a change because someone was ready to knock her on her ass. Ada looked down underneath her seat, where Emberly usually rested. However, Ada stared for a moment longer after realizing that her unruly cousin wasn't slumbering in her purple sleeping bag as she should be. Ada threw her head back on her pillow and groaned. She looked at the occupied benches across from her, seeing Olimpia curled up and knocked out so cold that even the surrounding noises hadn't woken her up—and she was a light sleeper. She must've been exhausted. As much as Ada didn't want to, she had to go looking for Emberly again. She stood over Olimpia's body, debating whether or not it would be fair to wake her. She looked elsewhere, pushed past the fighting occupants, and exited the train. She walked past sleeping families and people endlessly trying to offer sales for whatever shit they had.

Ada walked towards the far end of the subway station and paused once she was half-way there. Couldn't she do this on her own? She didn't need help but she was usually assisted by Olimpia because she cared just as much. It was wonderful that Emberly meant the world to her, but sitting this one out was something she desperately needed. Ada resumed walking, pushing past a man and a woman inappropriately fondling with each other behind one of the pillars, Ada quickly looked away just as the man pressed his associate against the wall and began to unbuckle his belt.

Getting out of their sight, she was getting ready to walk up the escalators, but her eye caught someone at the far end of the subway—opposite to the end she resided. The one and only Noel. He was sitting comfortably in a green beach chair, laughing quite wholesomely and enjoying the company of his affiliate. He was some eccentric English man who sold shoes, spoke a mile a minute, and wore tap shoes of his own. She stood by the steps and looked at both of them questionably until he happened to catch a glimpse of her. His laughing subdued and he stared right back. Although it was challenging, she swallowed her pride and walked towards them, having his eyes follow her the whole way there. His acquaintance, who had his back facing her, noticed the sidetracked expression on Noel's face and jumped around. He immediately offered a handshake after spotting Ada,

"Oh, 'Ello there, gorgeous, and might I ask how you're doing this lovely yet chilling night?" he kept his hand extended, "You remember me, yeh? Are you here to buy some shoes? If you're a lady of the night I have some lovely heels. What's your size might I ask?"

He pointed to three clear totes filled with all sorts of shoes: Sneakers, boots, sandals, flip-flops—you name it, he had it. However, seeing that he assumed Ada was a "lady of the night", she felt extremely offended. Rolling her eyes, Ada gently pulled her hand away from him seeing that he held onto it throughout his rambling,

"I was just wondering..." Ada looked at Noel who hadn't picked up his eyes from the ground since she arrived, "If I could speak to Noel," When Noel didn't bother to look up at her, she knew she had to try a different approach, "Please."

His friend may have been whimsical but he was no moron. He knew a touchy moment when he saw one and could feel the strain between the pair. He had certainly seen Ada around and Noel had mentioned her a few times. He was never sure what they're relationship meant but there was clearly some unresolved tension going on between them. He clapped his hands together, having his thick gloves smother the sound,

"Alrighty then, looks like you two just need a moment alone. I'll just be on my way to the loo," he said before leaving, "Don't get yourselves into too much trouble and don't you think about taking my shoes," he laughed before turning away.

Neither of them found it a laughing matter. Even after he left, it was still quite difficult for Ada to say what she wanted. Noel looked away from the ignited burn barrel and glowered at her,

"You're gonna just stand there and look at me?"

"I need your help," she gulped.

Noel looked away, momentarily, finding it almost irresistible to turn away or question. If she came asking _him_ , of all people, for help, it had to be something serious. He sat up in his beach chair and grabbed his bag before slowly making it to his feet,

"Emberly?"

She nodded,

"She snuck out again," Ada rolled her eyes, "I'd ask Olimpia but I feel like it's becoming too much for her. She already works so hard taking care of the elders. I just have no idea what's going on with her, lately. She's been stealing, sneaking out. She doesn't even listen to me half the time."

"She's being a teenager," Noel reasoned, "They do that. We did that. The only difference is that it's the end of the world. I'll help you find her," Ada gave a sigh of relief thanking him, to which he gave an affirmative nod and a tight-lipped smile, "Does this mean we're talking again?"

The elation hadn't even fully peaked. She noticed the bruised lip he got for her and Emberly. Whether or not he was truly a changed individual, there was _nothing_ he could do to make up for all that he did. She understood that whatever happened was just a year ago but there were just some things that couldn't be forgiven, much less forgotten. Without answering, she turned away from him and walked back towards the escalators.

The pair waited until Noel's associate returned and gave Noel permission to leave. Ada was nowhere in sight because she was already atop the escalators on the main level above, impatiently waiting for Noel or else she was going to leave on her own. He walked up the stairs, catching a pusher attempting to trade some drugs no matter how much she turned him away. Once she saw Noel, she took the lead and pushed past the fare gates that had to be opened manually. Noel followed close behind without question. Ada walked past familiar faces, one being the woman she kneed the hell out of that night. Exchanging menacing glares, Ada was the first to look away, seeing that she didn't have patience or time. There was something far more important to worry about. Ada zipped up for forest green parka and approached the stairs that led to the outside world. However, at the bottom of the staircase were two armed Herculean men.

"Night, Ada," one of them spoke.

"Night, Kesler," she greeted back with a smile. He was a very charming man with a charismatic smile that he rarely displayed, "Did you happen to see Emberly?" she asked.

The look on Ada's face was telling that she was growing worrisome over her cousin's whereabouts and Kesler was saddened that he couldn't be of any help—especially since this always happened around his shifts. Emberly was smart and really observant. She knew when shifts were being rotated and when to sneak out because whoever did happen to see her would no longer be around by the time anyone realized she was missing. Anything would've been helpful but just as expected, neither of the guards had seen her. The entrance into the subway was not exposed to the outside—sort of. Since it was far too dangerous to just have it revealed, there was a barrier of reinforced galvanized steel built just above the subway stairs for the obvious purpose of avoiding wandering threats. The rules were simple: People were free to go and come as they pleased, but once you stepped foot out of the Underworld after 9:00 PM, there was no re-entry up until 7:00 AM—and that's only if the guards weren't high enough or busy screwing around in the bathrooms to remember. The Underworld accepted just about anyone. All it took was a pat-down and possibly a little bit of bribery to be welcomed. Ada understood this rule but it was the first time Noel was going to encounter this problem. It was already hard enough having to survive out there after that fire and that was the last Noel could remember ever being outside.

Kesler unlocked the padlock and swung open the steel doors for Ada to walk through. Noel, however, stood a good distance, having haunting memories flood right back as if the doors were a dam for his traumatizing memories. Ada turned back and looked at him. She may have been unforgiving but that didn't mean she was going to pressure him into re-engaging with his ordeals. She was with him, seeing exactly what he had, but they had different ways of coping with it. More so impatient than concerned, Ada pardoned him and allowed the guards to close the door between the both of them. Unfortunately, she began second-guessing once the door was locked from the other side. The door closed, cutting her off from the murmurs of humanity. The whistles of the chilling winds were all that Ada had to accompany her. Being alone easily shook her confidence as she carefully looked up and down the dark streets. An reanimed staggered alone in the road, looking as if it had lost itself from a horde. She boldly approached it while flipping out a switchblade and grabbed it by the throat before puncturing it deep within its temple. The reanimated stopped moaning—a sound pleasant to anyone's ears. As soon as it dropped to the ground, so did she, frisking its body from head to toe. Jumping at the sudden sound of the metal doors opening again, she looked over her shoulder and was surprised to see Noel stepping out into the open. He stared at the door close behind him as if it was the most regrettable choice he had ever made. Returning her focus back on the reanimated, she stood back up after declaring the corpse worthless. Noel put on his bravest face and approached her, standing on the other side of the body,

"I was hoping you didn't get too far," he said, having icy mist escape his lips each time he spoke.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" She asked, studying his uneasy demeanor.

"Sure," Noel took a moment before nodding, "I mean...if a girl can do it—"

"Noel…" Ada groaned quite exhausted.

He snickered shortly before watching her Ada pivot the switchblade back. After she notably studied his gaze, Noel had no choice but to confront her on it,

"You still have that?" he commented. Ada watched him in silence, unable to react to such a rhetorical question without feeling a shimmer of shame. He made a couple of nervous gestures, hoping not to ruin whatever he currently saw was rekindling between them, "I'm sure I remember the part of our deal where you said you'd give that to me. I mean, he _was_ my brother."

Ada apprehensively looked into her hand before extending it out to him. She offered it, thinking that it was only fair since she used the end of her deal with him all the time. She had grown far attached to the weapon, seeing that it was her only means of protection.

The Frenchman took it from her, chuckling at the sloppy "M.L" initials written on the handle,

"What's it feel like?" Ada glanced down at the reanimated in the street, "Having something to remember your brother by?"

At first, Noel thought it was Ada's attempt to guilt-trip him for the loss of her family once again, but the longer he stared, the more he realized that she was rather sincere about it. The look in her orbs made her look almost desperate for an answer.

"It—" he had difficulty starting off, feeling his throat ball up. He tried weighing it down with a heavy smile, "It feels good. It feels like part of him is here with me. Like...I haven't lost all of him."

"I liked Mathieu," she smiled, "He was funny. I think I got along with him more than I did with you."

"Yeah?" Noel's laughter became quite genuine, unable to remove his eyes from her.

She nodded, hoping to hear something—anything about Jolyn. Noel would've, but he had nothing to show for it. Otherwise, Ada turned away, using the back of her hand to wipe away the painful remains that blurred her vision. She thought back to the fire, remembering the amount of burned bodies after the flames fully subdued. She was sure that no one other than Hunter and Emberly made it out alive but whether Hunter and his family were still alive was something she'd probably never find out.

Hoping that he'd be doing her a favor, Noel attempted to shift the focus back to finding Emberly instead on dwelling on such a horrific past. _Where to start?_ she questioned herself. As she walked through the frigid streets, the bottom half of a dead reanimated, in an alleyway, caught her eye. Noel followed closely as she strode over to it. He grimaced at the sight, observing a completely disemboweled reanimated with nothing but undergarments. As blistering as the Canadian winters were, the odor of the corpse was just as piercing,

"Who could do some shit like that?" Noel asked as he brought a hand up to his nostrils.

Suddenly, something went off in the distance, lighting up the skies like bombs. It started off with a loud whistle, having a bright purple spark streak across the skies, and leaving an opaque trail of smoke. Suddenly, the spark popped, dispersing in all different directions like a web of glitter and fire. Soon afterward, another went off, turning bright orange,

"It's her," Ada followed the trail.

* * *

Emberly sat perched on a branch amongst a batch of trees, covered head to toe in blood and entrails drawn from the very reanimated found by her search party. For the protection of her priceless clothing, she would use the garments off the backs of reanimated and use it as a protective layer and then cake the guts over it. Her face was the only body part she carefully marked, always removing her glasses, and spreading blood over her forehead and cheeks. She was extremely careful to not get it into her mouth.

She planned this moment during the multiple nights she would sneak out. Other nights, she calculated the perfect place, time, and spot—and just as expected, everything seemed to be working accordingly. She picked a perfect spot where a small-scale cliff overlooked a vast lake that twinkled with the midnight stars. It spoke back and lit up whoever's face stood close by. She knew that the fireworks were going to grab the reanimated attention, so she would light them up near the cliffside, mount the nearest tree, and watch in wonder as the fireworks drowned out the stars and the noises of the reanimated that plummeted into the waters below. Since it took some time to configure, hours had passed and she was down to her last three fireworks. However, in the distance, she saw two figures walking up to her, crossing through the park trail. Gasping, she quickly maneuvered her way through the trees and attempted to hide behind the trunk. The park was a flat plain and it seemed to be the only part of the plan never thought about: What if someone caught her? Where could she run? Where could she hide? Over time, she could hear the two people talking. Rolling her eyes, she remained hidden, knowing exactly who it was. Bones crunched as three reanimated, who were so close to walking off the edge, were put down. Afterward, that's when Emberly heard a voice,

"Emmy," she immediately recognized.

Although the owner of the voice were preferred, her eyes had difficulty lighting up. She figured that getting caught by a bunch of bandits or her cousin were both a negative. She peeked out from behind the tree, showing a matte, red face. She was surprised that instead of being greeted by Olimpia, she saw Noel. He was the only one perplexed, incredibly freaked out by her look. He nearly fell over as she walked out to approach them,

"Why the hell is she covered in that?!" he pointed, "Is she okay!?' he asked, regarding her mental state.

"It keeps them away," Emberly enlightened. She looked up at Ada, who glared at her endlessly, "What?" Emberly looked away embarrassed, "I was gonna come right back."

"How? The subway's locked after 9:00 PM," Emberly looked at them tight-lipped and avoided the question, prompting Ada to snap her fingers at her, "Emberly!"

"I take the tunnels in another train station," she reacted quickly before anyone could get a word in, "But I won't get caught! I promise."

Ada began to vent and stress the dangers of being out here alone as if her younger cousin already didn't listen to this speech a hundred effing times. There was so much to worry about: Reanimated, kidnappers, rapists. Most importantly, if someone were to follow her and take the same routes Emberly did, some unwanted company could follow her back to the Underworld and it could mean some serious trouble from the council—people who they'd never want to cross according to the residents and rumors. It wasn't the best place nor was it what anyone dreamed of but it was the only place they could call home, and Ada couldn't allow Emberly to risk that. As always, it still never seemed to fully process. That's when Emberly confessed something that nearly knocked the wind out Ada,

"I take Union Station," she said.

Ada's mouth dropped, unable to formulate as much as a peep. Noel, who awkwardly remained in the same spot made a throat-slashing gesture with his hand, indicating for Emberly to remain silent. He stopped as soon as Ada glanced at him. As they all knew, Union Station was one of the biggest train stations in Toronto and it was hoarded up with so much reanimated that no one could make it past the entrance or lobby. Again, it caused Ada to break into speech, doing it about as impeccably as a parent did when their children made jokes they didn't find amusing. However, it took a final couple of words for Emberly to fully get on board with how Ada was feeling. She hadn't been very expressive as she used to be before, expecting that it would do nothing but give people an advantage to use it as a weakness,

"...I know I drive you crazy and I know I probably chase you away the more I do, but I just want you to understand how much you mean to me, Emmy—you're literally the _only_ family I have left. The _only_ one. And if something were to ever happen to you?" she stammered, "I'd probably give up," Emberly watched her, instantly feeling disappointed in herself, "I just...I just wanna be there for you because you aren't the only one who's lost family. I get that you lost your mom and your dad and that it's killing you inside but I want to try my absolute hardest to be there for you. For as long as I can. But I can only do it if you want me to."

Emberly's bottom lip drooped. She had been holding in tears for so long, she was just about ready to spring a leak. But with Noel's presence, she didn't want him to witness it, so she concluded their conversation with a believable nod.

Ada examined her,

"I'd hug you but you're covered in…you know."

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Noel asked, "Must really like fireworks for you to risk your life like that?"

Ada nudged him. Emberly looked over at her as if it would be breaking a rule to speak without permission but Ada gave no indication that it was up to her. Emberly answered, pleased to give an explanation,

"They remind me a lot of Independence Day," Emberly confessed. She looked over at Ada in hopes that she was listening because she personally believed she had a good enough reason for breaking the rules despite there not being any excuse alive. Maybe if she managed to hit a spot while Ada was still soft, it could officially do the job of getting herself out of trouble, "It was the only time our families really came together. Aunty Dora's cooking, family time, and the way we all circled around the porch and watched the fireworks. My dad and I..."

Ada smiled as Emberly spoke, vividly recalling every detail of the celebrations her mother held at the house every year, whether it was July 4th, Indigenous Peoples' Day, or Christmas. Noel knew of the holiday, it's just he and his fellow Canadian natives celebrated it on a different day.

"Why don't we watch one more?"

"Really?" Emberly's face lit up underneath the layers of sticky blood.

It was all very touching but it barely changed their situation—and that was the bottom line of this entire exchange. The fact that Noel, of all people, was willing to encourage Emberly to disobey Ada in her presence was stunning. Seeing Emberly comply with it all was what really made her take matters into her own hands. She attempted to stop them by telling Noel that it was something best to be avoided right now.

Noel figured if a thirteen-year-old girl managed to fire a bunch of them without getting caught by anyone, much less reanimated, then they were more than prepared if things got a little out of control. He sincerely saw no harm in lighting one last firework. All of the remaining dead had been dumped into the lake down below and, as far as they knew, there was no one else around. Given the look on both of their faces, Ada was clearly outnumbered, plus it had been such a long time since she had seen a firework up close. So she gave in, allowing Emberly to take out a match and light it.

All three of them ran back to the tree and watched as the fireworks whistled into the sky and exploded into a bright orange and yellowish color. The fabulous thing about pyrotechnics is that once they were ignited, they did the work all on their own, and about five of them, one after the other, beautifully illuminated the sky. The way they reflected over the lake gave a doubling illusion. Noel and Emberly smiled at what was single-handedly the most beautiful thing they had seen within the entire year.

Finding it almost impossible to avoid nostalgia, it brought Ada near tears.

In its short amount of time, the fireworks did the job at both entertaining the party and luring the reanimated's in the vicinity. The dead were spread out across the perimeter of the park, stretching their hands through the wide spaces of the seven-foot fence. Only a good number managed to wander through the openings. Now that the group's "quality time" together finished, it was time to search for shelter. Emberly removed the layers of looted clothing, having her face and hands be the only parts of her body marked with blood.

With the Underworld inaccessible at this time, they had two ways to go about this: Either take the risky path through Union Station or find a temporary spot to camp in for the night. There were buildings everywhere but exploring vacant places in the city was such a dangerous task,

"What did you and Olimpia usually do?" Noel asked as they walked towards the locked off end of the park.

"We'd hole up at the gas station down the street but it blew up somehow," Ada enlightened.

"Then I've got an idea."

They all climbed over the fence, killing a few reanimated along the way. Afterward, they walked the same path that led towards the Underworld. When Ada asked where they were going, Noel enlightened that he had a friend located close by. As if things couldn't make them any more suspicious, along the way there, he warned them not to be too put-off by his acquaintance's mannerism, concluding that he suffered from PTSD. Both girls understood but were still worried. Neither of them could make any promises. As long as this stranger didn't intend to harm them, things should go fine. Eventually, they found themselves at another familiar part of Toronto—it was the main intersection where the entrances to the Underworld sat on all four corners of the sidewalks. Just like the entrance Ada previously exited with Noel, these were enclosed and boarded up to protect the sub-city. Since the Underworld was massive, its exits and entrances branched out to about two to three other blocks.

It was confusing as to why they would be led back to the place they couldn't reenter. Noel looked around at the four tall buildings surrounding them. He lifted his cupped hands to his mouth and whistled a specific tune. He waited a couple of minutes and performed it a second time, getting a curious response from Ada. He placed up his hand and constantly looked around before whistling a third time. Finally, a powerful light shined from one of the lower levels of the towering building,

"What do you want?" A dry yet youthful voice answered in the distance.

"Is Nathanson there?" Noel asked as he squinted his eyes at the gleaming light.

Finally, the light toggled off, revealing a thin, racially ambiguous woman with brown skin. All of her hair, which was big and curly was gathered into a poofy ponytail.

"Oh, it's just you," she answered blandly. From the looks of it, she was carefully examining the other two girls through the scope of a sniper rifle on a bipod, prompting Ada to pull Emberly behind her,

"These are my friends. They're with me," Noel quickly answered.

"Nathanson's asleep, can I take a message?"

Noel could tell that Ada was holding her breath and he attempted to do everything he could to reassure that they wouldn't be harmed,

"Can you wake him and tell him it's Noel? It's urgent."

The sniper groaned, far less enthusiastic than when she thought she had to put a bullet in between someone's eyes. She reached down beside her and pulled out her walkie-talkie. She softly spoke into the radio, repeating "Nathan. Nathan. Come in. Over," until she finally got a response,

"What?" A croaky voice answered.

"The appropriate response is 'go', rude ass. Also, you have a visitor at the intersection,"

"Who is it?"

"You can deal with that. I have a book I need to finish. Over."

Without any hesitation, the sniper disappeared back into the building and lowered the window. Suddenly, another head emerged from one of the windows across the street. In his case, he looked as if he were in his mid to late sixties, had a snow-white jewfro and a long beard. His left eye had difficulty opening all the way through.

"Hey Nathanson," Noel greeted with a half-smile.

He tapped his fingers along the window sill and examined the two figures standing beside Noel, not looking particularly happy to say the least. As a safety precaution, he armed himself with a knife in hand and went down to personally greet them. This is what Noel warned them about. Ada was taken aback but she remained on her toes. She repeatedly sized him up and studied his body language in case anything went wrong.

She kept Emberly smothered after they were invited inside. Climbing up only to the second level, he introduced them to his "room" which was basically an entire office with cubicles. Unbeknownst to many who resided in the Underworld, especially Ada and Emberly, Nathanson had a job to oversee the outside of Underworld and instantly take out the dead, looters, trespassers, or anything else that posed as the threat. Along with him and the other woman, there were other snipers residing in the other buildings on the corners. Due to his status as a veteran, he was essentially the gatekeeper of the place. He announced that they could make themselves at home and expressed "mi casa es su casa". And although people normally said that with a sense of open arms, Nathanson's use of the Spanish expression felt loose and disingenuous. There was a room that formerly served as a break area. Inside was one sofa and a couple of folding chairs. The mere setting was relaxing enough for Ada to collapse to the floor. Without question, Emberly dropped her backpack beside the sofa and attempted to lay on it, but Nathanson grabbed her by the wrist. She turned around and slipped out of his grip as he struggled with her. He sized her up, almost as if he was prepared for a spar. His chest was huffed out and he crossed his arms,

"What's all that shit?" Nathanson motioned his finger in her face, "Some kind of disguise?"

Ada and Noel looked up from their respective distances. Noel was the first to step in,

"It's nothing to worry about. It's just the dead's blood."

"The dead's blood?!" Nathanson scoffed, "That isn't some shit you just put on your face unless. You plan to infect someone with that?!"

"They help cloak you from the dead," Emberly answered.

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!" Emberly fearlessly snapped back.

The older cousin was afraid of this. She quickly walked over, having her boots tap loudly as they closed in behind Nathanson. Noel could see the pale-haired survivor reach for his handgun. Swiftly, Noel reached over and grabbed his wrist, repeatedly suggesting he calm down. He tried to walk him through the ordeal, explaining their night detail by detail so Nathanson could get a better grasp of what he was having difficulty comprehending. Thankfully, Nathanson relaxed and let the gun sink back into his holster. Further embarrassed by the bothered looks on both young girls' faces, Nathanson couldn't bring himself to look at them for too long. He turned away and stared at the floor tiles. Despite them not needing to have much of an explanation, he expressed that he couldn't stand seeing someone marked in something disposable as "Creeper's blood". He thought it as unnatural and it frightened him. He demanded that she clean up—no exceptions or else they'd be thrown back to the dead where Emberly seemingly wanted to belong. Once they did that, they were allowed to sleep anywhere they wished.

Nathanson departed to cool off somewhere else and take care of personal business. Meanwhile, Noel took it upon himself to guide the girls to the bathroom. In the bathroom, there were stacked cases of bottled water. Immediately, Emberly began scrubbing her hands and face as Noel and Ada observed her from the doorway,

"Thanks for not jumping on him," Noel questioned, "I wouldn't know what to do if things turned ugly."

"Well...thanks for trying to stop him. Looks like he's got it pretty bad," she empathized.

"Yeah. He's told me stories. He's seen a lot in Afghanistan. I can understand that would freak anyone out," he motioned his hand at Emberly, "Sure freaked me out. But it still doesn't give anyone reason to put their hands on her."

Ada admired him as he observed Emberly,

"What made you change your mind?"

His sights snapped back on her,

"Change my mind about what?"

"Helping me find her—Emberly."

Noel took a moment to answer. He didn't expect to be questioned on why he felt the need to help someone—it was something that should be so expected, so just doing it should be sufficient enough. But considering the state everyone was in and the hell that he had put them through, he understood the underlying doubt that may have whispered themselves into Ada's ears every now and then,

"I don't know," Noel shrugged, "Could be guilt, or maybe it's what my mom would've wanted. Or maybe it's because I—" He caught himself. Ada narrowed her eyes in on his lips, hoping that there was a way she could probably read what he was going to say before he said it. As if she actually had a snowball's chance in hell at figuring it out, he continued, "...Maybe it was just the right thing to do."

"Well, thank you," Ada expressed softly, "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come along with us."

"Does this make us friends?"

Ada rested the side of her head against the wall.

"Let's just say...I hate you a lot less."


	2. S03E02: "Found and Lost"

A chipper voice sang through the intercom, wishing everyone a good morning and encouraging them to get their productive day started. The voice echoed through all levels and layers of the community, almost having at least four speakers along every wall on every level. The voice went on and spoke endlessly, attempting, as always, to get through to all of the individuals and families sleeping in their tents. The voice belonged to the one who was in charge of it all and he had a lot of pride in operating in what he believed was one of the most upcoming and thriving communities in Toronto: Port Providentia—previously known as Jack Layton Ferry Terminal. When the outbreak hit, the remaining staff stayed behind to reclaim the area and give themselves, their families, and the dock a whole new name and purpose. In the past, the ferries were a way of transportation. Today, it served as a home for around two hundred people. It may have sounded like a lot but there was room left for plenty more and that was the leader's goal. Taking in new members was such a rarity that anyone who lived there should consider it a privilege. So much went into accepting new members of into the community. Background checks weren't possible so there were tasks and close examination.

Endlessly bound to the docks of Port Providentia was Destinee Montclair: A massive ferry that currently operated as a residence for those found fit for the community. The Toronto ferries weren't typically big enough to be used as such, but they were upgraded shortly before the outbreak hit. The ferry company launched three new reveals to the public: Larger boats capable of holding thousands of people—Destinee Montclair, lacking an official name in the former life, was one of them. There were eleven vessels in total and after the epidemic, the ten others vanished from the waters without a trace.

A loud horn was heard, causing tenants in one of the tents to shake and yell in fright. Isolated from all the others was another average-sized black tent. Inside was a beautiful young woman with long brunette hair who slept on the chest of a shirtless young man about one to two years older than her. As cold as it was, they were still warmed up from their body heat and the night before. The brunette was startled awake from the second horn, having hair droop over her shoulders and eyes. She groaned and reached over her partner's body, grabbing her wristwatch that fell off from their intimate activities the night before,

"Shit…" she cursed to herself. She reached over and shook her companion awake. She sharply whispered his name about five times until he finally opened his eyes, "I overslept! My dad is gonna be so pissed at me!"

"So, what? Who cares?" the voice mumbled back through his sleepy lips. He slightly lowered his eyelids before he was slapped on the shoulder, "Ouch!" he rubbed the inflicted area.

She hassled him, commanding him to get up. They both carefully put their clothes over their undergarments, occasionally knocking their joints against one another. Once they were set, they climbed out of their tent and looked at the other tents around them. Just as they were, people were also getting ready to begin whatever manual labor they had scheduled for them. Everyone who lived on the Destinee Montclair had a job to do and, of course, it had to fall within their skillset. They weren't just going to let some random man look after the children if they weren't fond of them. The last time that happened, a father nearly ended up beating a man to death for telling their child something extremely profane. Being on the lowest level of the four-tier boat, the brunette and her partner traveled to the margins and located the stairs that brought them up to the main docking level. They walked, pushing past people who were going about their business, grabbing bagels and coffee. To the captain, a true community was one that looked out for one another and helped it grow. He claimed it was what he was exposed to all his life and it was a mindset he wanted to keep going, especially during a time like this.

The lovebirds exited the boat and walked along the mechanical docks that could be lifted after curfew. They strolled along the docks, walking past the waiting area of the terminal and exiting the booths that normally checked people in. However, before walking beyond that point, they had to sign their names out. The woman behind the window—a heavyset redhead with natural dark roots, handed them a clipboard and a pen. The brunette signed her name, "Vanessa Montclair" in neat handwriting. Followed by her friend, he wrote in cursive letters, "Carlos Sanchez". He handed the clipboard back to the woman behind the glass and ran off to catch up with Vanessa.

"Dad!" Vanessa cheered as her father came into sight.

Her father, Vince Montclair, was the captain and head of Port Providentia. As loving and as hospitable he was, that could all change, depending on whether it involved his only daughter. He studied Carlos as the young man lingered behind his daughter like some hound in heat. He proudly embraced her, wanting nothing more than to that his daughter lived to see another day. Pulling away from her, he noticed a bright red mark on her neck—a hickey. When she realized he was staring at it for too long, Vanessa brushed her hair over both shoulders, attempting to give it off as a casual gesture. She was unaware of the hickey but she had been confronted about them before.

"I didn't see you in your tent last night…" Vince publically called her out.

"Dad. Please, I'm not a kid anymore."

She pursed her lips while avoiding eye contact and looked at Carlos inch closer to them both.

"Morning, Carlos," Vince waved at him wearisomely, forcing a smile.

"Hi. Morning," he responded, picking up on unfriendliness.

"Morning, guys," another voice called out from behind.

Turning around, Carlos saw Dora, who he had been longing to see. She wore a thick grey turtleneck, a navy alpine jacket, jeans, indigo-colored boots, and had half up, half down worn-out curls. She and a few others were sent out to scavenge for some goods and hadn't returned for two whole days. Carlos couldn't have been happier to see her since it meant that all of his worst fears about losing her had been shot down. Revitalized by her presence, he ran up to her and smothered her in a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Taken aback, Dora held his shoulders and looked up at him with a smile,

"I'm just glad your back," Carlos laughed.

She rubbed his shoulders before letting go and looked over at Vanessa who was walking up to them. They warmly greeted one another. Dora grew somewhat close to Vince in a short amount of time and had no choice but to get to know Vanessa since they were constantly around each other. Other than the fact that Carlos was dedicated to chasing tail, they crossed paths, even more, when she became more than 'friendly' with Carlos,

"Did you get it?" Vanessa asked her.

Dora gasped, remembering something. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a packet of candy. Twizzlers to be exact,

"They were out of chocolate bars."

"Aw," she chuckled, "I'm not a huge fan of Twizzlers," Vanessa politely declined.

Dora chuckled to herself and expressed that she was afraid that Vanessa, like many others, would say that about her youngest son's favorite snack. However, the effort couldn't go unnoticed. Hoping it would be seen as some sort of self-reward, Vanessa suggested Dora keep it for herself to enjoy. Remembering what she initially walked over for, Vanessa informed Carlos that her father wanted an extra pair of hands on the construction of the nursery in hopes of getting it finished before one of the passengers went into labor by the end of next month. Doing as ordered, Carlos and Vanessa walked off. Meanwhile, Dora looked down at the Twizzlers in her hands, she stared at it for an awfully long time before returning it into her back pocket,

"I know he's close to you but that boy better watch himself," Vince commented as he snuck up behind Dora.

Dora let out laughter and playfully hit Vince's shoulder as he giggled with her. Dora looked up, seeing Vanessa reach up and hold Carlos' hand.

"Hush, I think they're cute."

"This is the fourth time I found a hickey on her neck…"

She scoffed at him with a feeble smile and playfully rolled her eyes,

"They're in their prime, Vince. What else can you expect?" she shrugged, "Don't you remember those days? At their age? Kissing? Sneaking out? Falling in love?"

Vince removed his cap momentarily to rub his hands through his greying hair,

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just so hard seeing your daughter grow up. She's all I got."

"A lot of people don't have that luxury anymore, you know."

Vince paused,

I didn't mean it like that."

Dora softly nudged him with a smile, knowing it didn't have any ill intent. She kept her past a secret from him, so she could only speak on behalf of other parents.

"I know. I'm just saying, this is a moment a parent usually longs for. Just seems like you've been closed up in here too long," Vince looked over at Dora with a raised brow and although he didn't fully understand what she was saying, he was offended by the wording. Hoping for a more in-depth explanation, she elaborated, "When you go out _there_ and see nothing but death, seeing kids like Vanessa and Carlos makes you realize that the world isn't all that dead yet."

"Alright, Ghadi," Vince commented with an exhale. It invoked more laughter amongst the two of them, "Seriously. Why don't you head inside and take a break for the rest of the day? You did well. And I'm just glad you're back."

Before Dora could refuse, Vince walked off, claiming that it was more of an order than a question. Turning away with a smile, she followed the usual process of entering the ship. She approached one of the booths and removed her weapons which included an expandable baton and a fully loaded Glock 17—all weapons she was lucky enough to get after Carlos lifted them from an Infected police officer. Pandora showed her form of identification, which was a small black and white photo of herself printed on a piece of paper with alphanumeric data. After her belongings were securely put away she proceeded to the booth to sign in. Finally, she boarded the ship with her hands deep in her pockets. She kept her head down at all costs, wanting to avoid seeing the families that were aboard the ferry. Seeing families together made her wonder where she went wrong as a mother. Four children—all gone. She traveled up to the highest most exposed level of the ferry. The higher she climbed, the stronger the sea breezes became. Normally, people were drawn to the cityscape of Toronto, but she always faced the opposite direction. She stared at a large body of water that stretched miles out into the countryside where she last resided before all of this. Reaching in her back pocket, she pulled out the packet of Twizzlers. She brought it up to her lips, and just as she was about to tear it open, she froze before deciding to place it back in her pocket. _Not yet_ , she told herself.

* * *

What Vince didn't know is that Vanessa and Carlos would give themselves breaks and sneak off onto the navigation bridge, at the top level of the ferry, and fool around with each other—and that's exactly what they were doing at this time. No one ever caught them and during working hours were the only times they got to be secluded from everyone else. Vanessa buttoned up her sweater and searched around for her earring. However, Carlos wasn't going to stick around—he rarely ever did. Poor Vanessa was fooled to believe that there was something momentous going on between her and Carlos, or she at least hoped that things would get going. He stood by the doorway, observing the other navigation bridge on the opposite side of the massive ferry,

"Found it!" she exclaimed in happiness, "My dad would've killed me if I lost these," Carlos silently gave an _mhm_ while keeping a lookout. Vanessa chortled at his paranoia and stood up from where she was crouched, "Will you relax? We aren't going to get caught," Clearly not paying attention to her, she snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist while he continuously peered out from behind the window. Frightened at first, he managed to maneuver her underneath his arm,

"So...I was wondering," Vanessa sounded ever so relaxed when she was around Carlos. Something about his presence always calmed her, "Does this mean anything?"

Carlos looked down at her underneath his armpit and awkwardly moved his eyeballs around. He removed his arm from her shoulder to get a better glimpse at her,

"Does what mean anything?"

She hesitated,

"I don't know. Whatever's going on between us."

"I thought we agreed we weren't—"

"I know we said we weren't going to talk about it but...I just feel like we should at least address it. I feel like things have changed since then."

Carlos disagreed. He didn't want to express any type of feeling about love with Vanessa. Even if they were gaining feelings for one another, they strictly came to the agreement that this relationship between them would have no strings attached. When he first met Vanessa she was extremely guarded and defensive. She wouldn't do as much as talk to Carlos until she just gave in one day. I guess it was after she realized that he had stopped trying. She opened up to him more than anyone else on the boat and when she began to show her genuine self—who she was _before_. Although the intention behind it was good, it snuck up on Carlos and scared him. Of course, his relationship with Vanessa meant a lot to him but it was something else he didn't feel comfortable putting on the line. He certainly liked her but the feelings they had for each other weren't mutual on a macro level. Before Vanessa could bring up anything else, Carlos escaped by walking out the navigation room and down the stairs. To his surprise, Dora was resting by the railings, looking out to sea. Carlos slowly continued down the stairs of the bridge, attempting to not alert her. Once he made it down, he power-walked toward the steps on the opposite side that Dora stood on, which would lead to the lower level. However, Dora coincidentally turned around, wiping tears from her cheeks,

"Carlos?" she recognizing the build.

He stopped in his steps and turned around to face her. She approached him. He lied, telling her he didn't notice her. Unaware that he had just snuck out of the bridge, she inquired about him being up on the top level, assuming that he was searching for her if not for any other reason. Finally, Vanessa unveiled herself and called Carlos from the bridge. Noticing Dora as well, she announced to both of them that she found something that could change Port Providentia for the better.

Dora made a playful face that only she and Carlos could understand,

"Don't judge me," Carlos smirked.

"I'm not, I'm not…" Dora paused, "I mean, Vanessa's such a sweet girl. I can't blame you for liking her."

Carlos looked away unsurely just before staring back at the bridge entrance,

"Yeah."

An awkward silence squeezed itself between both of them. At this point, Dora was essentially like a guardian to Carlos and there were just some things she could pick up on—whether it was through a maternal instinct or their close relationship. Carlos opened up to Dora about things he hadn't even told his parents and although it was in her past nature, she learned to reserve judgment. She understood that Carlos was still hurting over the disappearance of Ada and that it was inevitably having some type of effect on Carlos' relationship with Vanessa. At first, Dora thought the amount of time it took Carlos to recover from Ada didn't seem like a lot but she needed to understand that people coped with loss in different ways. Was it healthy? No. But was it a natural process? Absolutely.

"...Want to talk about it?"

Carlos shook his head.

Vanessa came running out of the bridge, locking it back with the key she stole from her father's office. She had an off-white file folder in her hand and passed it to Dora. Dora opened it as Carlos read the documents over her shoulder. However, city-girl Dora didn't have a clue about what she was looking at. Carlos read the word, "Boat Dispatch" aloud. Being a New Yorker as well, Carlos wasn't all too sure what was being presented to them. To Vanessa, that was even better. She could take the documents and reveal the news to staff all at once.

They followed her back to the docks where she looked for her father. Finally, they located Vince, who was using one of the forklifts to transport shipments of rice and have them stored in the Port's bunker. Vince was a hardworking man and once he got in the zone it was impossible to get him out. Prepared to tell his daughter that the information could wait, she affirmed that it couldn't. She passed him the files and he read it, mumbling "holy hell" to himself. He jumped down from the forklift and whistled someone else over to cover where he left off. Shortly afterward, Vince summoned a good number of dependable staff and workers to the main office where some were either seated or standing. He looked at all of the faces staring back at him behind his desk,

"Good afternoon everyone," he greeted, having everyone happily greet him back, "Thanks to my daughter, Vanessa, we have some very good news. We might have found another boat."

People were instantly confused. He elaborated, explaining that the paper given to him was a dispatch log that revealed where one of the other ferries last set sail to Toronto Islands—a small island park a couple of miles out from Port Providentia. It was where the ferries would formerly transport people during their daily commute. The listed date of its last departure was only a few days after the outbreak claimed dominance,

"Why do we need another ferry anyways?" Passenger Titus Murdoch put it bluntly, "We have one right here."

Murdoch was Vince's right-hand man and a long-time friend. He stood in the corner of the room with his arms firmly crossed. He was an older gentleman who had more mouth than courage. Granted, he did his part when it came to contributing to Providentia but he was no match for the people who risked their lives by stepping out of the zone. However, one thing about Murdoch is that he tended to say what was everyone's mind. So despite his interruptions, it was a question that everyone was thinking. They were just too afraid to ask it. Vince went on to explain that a second ferry was something important if they wanted their community to grow. Although the ferries could hold thousands of people, on average, it was their living conditions that had to be thought about. An overcrowded boat wouldn't make a good community if they wanted people to sleep, eat, and raise children there.

"I'm gonna need some volunteers," Vince hesitantly announced.

Dora was the first to answer. All of the faces in the room looked at her, feeling anything other than shame for not responding quickly enough as she did. Shortly afterward, Patricia Rothenberg, another member with a pixie cut and glasses, volunteered as well. Although others did want to see the community grow, it needed to take more than a single piece of paper for them to risk their own lives and the lives of their loved ones. Seeing it as the right opportunity, Murdoch ceased the silence. Questioning exactly how they were going to get to Toronto Islands. Vince already knew that taking the Destinee was a foolhardy thing to do but he figured it'd be a risk worth taking. Suddenly, Patricia spoke up,

"We can take my family speed boat instead. Our boat can carry a good seven or eight of us."

"That's wonderful," Vince smiled, "Where is it?"

"It should still be back at our garage…" Rothenberg mumbled, "All there's left to do is get it…"

Vince patiently looked at all of the other conflicted faces in the room. Some looked away tensely while others pridefully stood their ground and remained neutral—Murdoch being one of them. Although he was far from thankful, Vince thanked everyone for attending and dismissed them all except for Dora. Murdoch, however, stood behind, believing that he deserved the right to hold whatever conference was going to be had with her. Vince, in particular, became worried about Dora,

"Have a seat," he offered, motioning her to one of his seats in front of his desk. After she sat down, he gave it to her straight, "I need you to sit this one out."

"Why?" she gave a brittle smile, attempting to cover up the offense.

He gave a quick disclaimer that she was a deeply respected member of the community. Especially, for the amount of daily work that she puts in and that she's made a name for herself in the short amount of time that she's been there. But there was a lot of hearsay going around about her physical state and there were times where she just plain overworked herself. Before giving a response, Dora looked over her shoulder rather uncomfortable with Murdoch's presence. She gave Vince some signals that prompted Titus to bitterly exit the room. Titus believed that if he truly was the captain's right-hand man, he deserved to be let in on what was going on in the heads of the members of his community. For the sake of different perspectives, he thought it was important to know.

"Sorry about that, Titus can be a little…"

"Overbearing?"

"A pain in the ass is more like it," They both laughed, but Vince made sure not to let it dissuade their conversation, "Why do you work so hard Dora?"

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, thinking whether or not she should be honest with him,

"I get…" she thought of a proper word that would best embody how she felt, "...lost sometimes. Lost in thought, in myself, in other people...I get lost in so many ways if I don't have something to keep myself occupied," she picked at her nails as she watched Vince's puzzled face. He couldn't understand what she was saying. She exhaled, thinking of the perfect way to get him to comprehend, "You told me to have off today. And when I did, I just kept tormenting myself with thoughts of my family."

"Family?" He slouched back in his chair, "I think this is the first time I've ever heard you mention family."

A suspension occurred for a while between their exchange. Dora thought it was the perfect time to be brutally honest with Vince and especially herself,

"I failed them, Vince. I thought everything I was doing for my family was to protect them but it only made things worse. And yes, people will tell me over and over again that it's not my fault but as a mother, what more can you do other than blame yourself when your children are gone?" she began to choke up, "Besides, I made some really stupid decisions."

"How many were with you?"

"Three. My son, my daughter, and my niece."

"How does Carlos fit into all of this?"

"Carlos was with us from the very beginning. He thinks I don't know, but he was dating my daughter."

Vince nodded in understanding. Dora was never so open about her life before. She lied and said that she and Carlos had met only recently but from the very beginning there was something about their relationship that just felt too personal. They had both been through so much and they evenly shared that pain. No matter how long strangers knew each other, the type of trust that Dora and Carlos had would take years to build in the apocalypse,

"I thought covering up my past would make me not think about it but it's done nothing but make me feel so ashamed," She opened up. He nodded in understanding and she carried on, "Carlos and I were in some pretty bad shape when you first found us months ago. We were on the brink of starvation, we were slowing you down, and you could've left us behind but didn't. You welcomed us."

"And I don't regret it one bit," he smiled.

"I guess it all just makes me a little too optimistic about there still being good out there. That's why I need and want to do this, Vince. Or else I'll just feel lost again. What Port Providentia stands for is something monumental. You help people by giving them a place to call home. It's the only way to keep my mind off things and being here makes me feel like I have a purpose. So, please. Let me do this."

Captain Vince would be a straight-up asshole to shoot down Dora after what she just shared with him so he allowed her to go but under the condition that he tag along. There was no way he could have a freshman of his community show him up.

Dora got up and approached the office's exit, seeing that the door was left slightly ajar. As she exited, she froze at the sight of Titus, who was standing close by the door. He pulled a cigarette away from his lips and let out a big puff of smoke. Dora glared at him for a moment or two, suspecting that he was trying to eavesdrop. Before turning away and marching off, he winked at her.

* * *

Already prepared, Dora impatiently waited by the fortified gates of the Port for almost an hour until Vince finally arrived with a group of people. He was accompanied by Patricia and her husband, Bart Rothenberg. Hurrying behind them was a teenage boy, probably about fourteen years of age. He seemed to be bickering with them the whole stroll there and from the look on Vince's face, the teen angst was beginning to get to him. Once they came within earshot, Dora could hear what the young boy was going on about. Long story short he wanted to tag along, giving various reasons as to why his company would be beneficial. One that really stood out to Dora was when he specifically recalled a time where his father wasn't around when it all started. Allegedly, Bart was too busy being with his "second wife" and it was completely up to him to keep his mother safe. Dora turned away once those words escaped his mouth, wanting to avoid such dirty laundry.

"Cut it out, Joseph," Patricia groaned, "I told you, you aren't coming and that's final."

"I can take care of myself!" Joseph defended.

"Well, this time isn't like last time. It's gotten worse out there," Bart intervened, "Now go back to the ferry, we'll be back soon."

"This is such bullshit."

Excusing the swearing, they each gave Joseph a peck on the forehead and watched him grouchily return to the ferry. Patricia turned to look at Dora, immediately able to pick up on her generosity to pretend as if she wasn't listening,

"Sorry about that," Patricia nervously grinned.

"It's fine. They usually become outspoken at that age."

Patricia silently became excited,

"You have any of your own?"

"Four," Dora answered vaguely.

"Oh, wow," Patricia exclaimed as she prepared herself. She zipped up her jacket, "Not to sound like a downer but...if we survive this, we could introduce them sometime."

Dora suddenly became tongue-tied,

"W-Well...they...they aren't around right now. With me. They aren't with me."

Bart lost color in his face from secondhand embarrassment. Feeling like an absolute asshat for not fully realizing the losses that people had to sustain, Patricia reached her arm out to Dora and began to apologize before Vince could purposely cut the tense interaction short. They separately walked off around the side of the port where a majority of occupants vehicles were parked. Ultimately, Vince wasn't able to tag along because he had to get things prepped for the journey to Toronto Islands. Meanwhile, that was understandable, the issue of Dora's party being too small was an issue. Joining last minute was two men Dora and the Rothenberg's had never gotten the chance to formally meet. The first gentleman's name was Reginald-Joseph III but preferred that people simply call him RJ. Just like Dora, he too fled the United States in search of sanctuary and grew up in Michigan all his life. Although it was definitely the look in today's era, he looked a little scruffier than most and had a face full of redness. The second greeted themselves as Deyvis. Deyvis was in his late 30's and was arguably the best equipped. He was the last to enter the car and instantly fascinated everyone with a jet-black recurve bow. Raised by a well-off family, Deyvis was a well-trained archer and hunter and took part in a multitude of archery competitions. Seeing that bows and arrows were one of the quietest long-ranged weapons he was promised to be a secret weapon in case something unfortunate happened. He kept it to himself, but that was a lot of pressure.

Now with a sufficient amount of members, the Rothenberg's reversed out of the parking lot and safely drove out of the Port. Dora turned around to look through the rear of the vehicle, briefing seeing Carlos as the gates were slid back shut. Due to blocked of routes and unsafe roads, the drive to the Rothenberg's neighborhood took about thirty minutes. They parked in the center of a cul-de-sac and all exited the car. There were about four visible Infected, strolling enough of the neighboring houses. They each broke off to take care of their own,

"Quietly," Bart advised each of them.

Deyvis stood in place and put his proficient archery skills to use, powerfully shooting an arrow at the Infected walking behind the truck. After the Infected's head jerked back, causing its feet to jolt up and fumble to the floor, he approached to retrieve his arrow. Dora had her gaze set a particular Infect, one that was gaunt and darker-skinned due to it's hardened and decrepit skeletal system. She armed herself with her expandable baton and with a simple flick of her wrist, it extended, revealing a sharpened end. Although the Infected stood taller than her, she grabbed it by the throat and bum-rushed it into a porch's column. She studied its off-white eyes and face. _Thank god,_ she thought to herself. Holding the baton in a reverse grip, she drove it into its eye socket and let it fall to the ground. Everyone else watched her personal engagement in bewilderment, however, none of them bothered to question her on it. There were other Infected in the area, but they were too far out of range to worry about. The Rothenberg's beckoned everyone to their home, where their garage was attached to the house and also faced the street.

"So this is your neighborhood, huh? Did you know any of these people?" RJ questioned generally.

"Just Gale," Bart pointed to Deyvis's kill, "We were never really too fond of him."

"How are we getting in?" Bart generally questioned, "Maybe we can bust out the windows?"

There was no need for that. Patrica reached into her pocket and pulled out keys that still granted her access to things such as her job, lockers, house, and long-forgotten car.

"You still carry those worthless keys around?" Bart whispered as he opened the door.

"They...just seem hard to let go of."

"I understand. I still carry around mine too," Dora attempted to comfort her.

They casually walked inside as if they were welcomed into their residency after some year-long family vacation. Patricia was nearly brought to tears as she looked at the family photos along the wall. Even Bart had a difficult time walking past his living room. The homey feeling it gave felt false, simply remembering was remained behind the locked closet door in the dining room. Dora remained outside, spread out from RJ and Deyvis as they went off dilly-dallying in the wondrous yet undead neighborhood. However, Dora glanced up the street, noticing that the number of Infected had increased from when they last observed it. Unsure whether they had been spotted yet, it wasn't a matter of if, but when. Dora entered the house, noticing Bart and Patricia enraptured by the personal memorabilia in their house. Snapping them out of it, she warned them of the incoming herd, counting about nine of them. Bart returned outside while Patricia instantly ran to the garage. Bart hopped into his truck and reverse it into the driveway and got as close to the boat trailer as he could.

"They're coming..." RJ sang nervously.

"Quick, get it aligned and hitch it up to the truck!" Bart demanded.

Patricia was clueless on what to do. Instead, he encouraged his wife to switch places with him while Dora, RJ, and Deyvis stalled the impending danger. It happened within mere minutes when the first Infected rushed towards Dora. Denying it access within a foot of her, she powerfully struck it across the face with her baton, slicing through enough of its face to make it drop. RJ struggled with two as one snuck up behind him and nearly got to his ear, but an arrow to the head allowed RJ to put the primary one down. Once Bart was finished hitching the boat to their truck, they called out for everyone to safely return to the truck. Like ants running to an anthill, they all jumped inside of the vehicle. Despite leaving their cherished home unsecured, Patricia carefully drove off and exited the block, non-lethally knocking into Infected along the way. The main concern to everyone was just making sure that they got transported this boat in one piece.

The drive back was quicker than they expected and everyone resumed breathing once the Port's gates came into view. An active sniper of the community, on the lookout, noticed the van coming in from at least a mile away and the gates were instantly opened upon arrival. The community was elated for the most part meanwhile others gawked at the incoming sea vehicle, still trivializing its purpose and Vince's intention. Outside of the people he priorly spoke to in his office, not many knew about the plan that laid ahead. Every single one of them was checked for bites and ultimately welcomed back into the arms of their loved ones. Joseph ran into both of his parent's arms, RJ was welcomed by some friends, Deyvis was kissed on the mouth by his lovely girlfriend, and Carlos hugged Dora,

"You know what guys?" Every one of their faces turned to see her, "We worked well together. We really kicked some ass out there."

Dora always felt that no one's work should go unrecognized seeing that it gave people the incentive to work harder and become better.

"What now?" Joseph asked, wrapped in his parents' arms.

"We set sail," Vince simply stated.

* * *

There was an unintended celebration after the finding of the boat. There was food, but most importantly, there was wine. Even though there was normally a set curfew, Vince extended it an hour for this night in particular. Being one of the many people with some sort of influence from their native culture, Dora took joy in helping prepare some last-minute meals. She stewed chicken and prepared the rice. Carlos had a skill in making a potato salad that he hadn't showcased in years, so this buffet was something livening for him. Others who decided to have a hand in it made their own dishes as well just in case there wasn't enough of everything to go around. People were scattered throughout the Destinee Montclair. Some, who were either too used to the curfew or pooped from the day's workload, that they went to bed at their normal time.

Dora enjoyed her share of food and was relieved of her work when her exhaustion finally began to show. At some point, she returned to the top tier of the ferry, looking out towards the ominous sea. From behind, Titus crept up on her. Aside from his tall, slim build, his bitter personality reminded her of her ex-husband. She never got a good vibe from him. She understood that he was one of the first people here and that he and Vince had a friendship that went on since childhood. So for the sake of everyone else around her, she kept it cordial. He had a beak-like nose and endlessly wore a Blue Jays baseball cap with a pair of sunglasses. Whatever was going on underneath those shades, Dora knew it was just a safeguard for whatever trouble his eyes could manifest. This time, the sunglasses sat over the visor of his cap—but for good reason.

He pulled up close beside her and rested on the railing. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets and tapped it upright. He pulled out a cigarette and offered it to her, to which she politely declined. She felt unsafe for some reason, looking around just to be sure she wasn't alone. Thankfully, there was a handful of talkative teenagers and two smaller children chasing each other around the platform,

"Surprised you haven't started yet," Titus spoke through tight lips, lighting the cigarette with a match.

"My father died from smoking and drinking and I've had to send a brother of mine to rehab for the same thing," Dora explained, "Not judging. I just think it would make me a hypocrite if I started. I don't think I'd stop. Plus, it makes remembering them a lot harder."

"Eh, who could blame ya? With the way Vince is running this shit, we're all as good as dead already."

Here we go. Talk therapy was more common now than it should've been a year ago but Dora just wasn't mentally equipped for it. She had her own issues to worry about. She respected Vince to a point where there was no way she could badmouth him; even if his relationship with Titus was in shambles,

"Trust him. Give him a chance."

"Yeah, well, the last time I trusted him, something really messed up happened," Dora didn't answer. Titus turned his head away to exhale more smoke, "He says we're supposed to be partners but he treats me like I'm some stupid lackey. He doesn't think I know _because_ he thinks I'm stupid."

"He's just treating everyone equally, that's all" Dora remained facing forward.

Titus' entire demeanor changed to such a confident claim. He waited for this moment,

"You wanna know something?" he began, "When we first started this place out we didn't have things figured out. We weren't really prepared for what was out there. One day, we ran into some troublemakers while we were out scavenging and Vanessa got separated from us. We came back to the Port and Vince made everyone search day in and day out for her. It was non-stop. A month went by and I just kept telling myself there was no way she could've survived. I swear, I was trying to be a good friend and my intention never to hurt his feelings, but I expressed that to him. And you know what he said to me?" Dora kept her eyes on him, "That I was selfish and a bad friend to assume that his daughter was dead. So, about a month went by and we finally found her. Sleeping in some tiny playhouse in a backyard—dirty, tired, and starving. We brought her back, there were tears of joy, hugs, kisses. You name it, it was there," he took a long inhale of nicotine and exhaled, "At first, when the outbreak hit, Vince and I were working at the terminal. Both of us stuck together through _everything_. We had each other's backs, man. The things we saw out there? It was truly the end of the world," Titus could tell by the look on Dora's face that, somewhere after the part where Vanessa was found, she was beginning to get lost. However, he didn't let up, "After he got back to Vanessa and Destinee, it was like my wife and kids didn't matter anymore. After everything we witnessed, I know he didn't mean it like that...but it felt that way. He made me believe that waiting was the best option. So we waited...and waited...and waited some more...until we could he finally decided it was safe to go out again. By the time we got back to my home, they were gone. Missing. And I never saw them again. Vince made a promise that we'd go looking for them and I'm still waiting for that promise to be fulfilled,"

"Titus, where are you going with this?" Dora feared.

"I never got along too well with people, even before this all happened. But finding Vanessa that day gave me something to be hopeful about. So, I waited a couple of days, let Vince get back in the right headspace and I asked. I said, 'I know it's been a while but I think we should really start looking for Geraldine and the kids again'. And you know what he told me?" he paused, trying ever so calmly not to get overwhelmed with rage, "He looked me in the face and said that 'it's been too long' and that I needed to 'face reality'," as expected, Dora was speechless, "He patronized me."

Dora struggled to get the correct words out,

"I-I…" she shrugged unsurely, "Maybe he didn't mean it that way…"

"What other could he have meant it? You do all of this work for him, Dora, and you put your life on the line for him to get this stupid boat so he can heighten up his ego, but what do you get from it?!"

"A home…"

He flung his arm around at such a cliche answer,

"What's a home without a family? Do you think he'd ever want to send a search party out there to look for your son? Huh? Your daughter or your niece?"

Dora was stunned and gave a look of disbelief, almost like she had been unveiled. She hadn't confessed it to anyone, but her family was the true motivation behind her labor. She felt that maybe if she worked hard enough, Vince would've had the decency to organize something for her. A search party—something. But she was too prideful to admit that. Even if she had to look herself, all she needed him to do was supply her with the means to survive. However, apart from that, Dora felt disrespected,

"You listened to my conversation?" she scoffed.

"Look—"

"Why would you do that? You _knew_ that was a private conversation between me and Vince and you just tried to exploit!?"

"Oh, quit being so dramatic."

"Dramatic?"

"All I'm saying is that Vince is gonna chew you up and spit you out just like he did to me. He only cares about his 'community' and his daughter…"

"Jesus! Well, can you blame him, Titus?!"

They began speaking over one another, Titus having more volume in his voice.

"...And if you don't see that by now, you're dumber than you look!"Dora shook her head in disbelief. The sympathy he at least managed to instill in her was carried off with the sea breeze

"Screw you," Dora spat before angrily walking off.

"Right back at ya," He swiftly retaliated.

Dora stopped in her tracks and glowered in his direction a final time,

"You may have lost your family but that doesn't give you a reason to exploit mine. Don't you _dare_ mention my family ever again,"

"Or what?!" Titus antagonized, having to get the last word.

Titus briefly watched as she stormed off, also receiving inquisitive stares from the teens on the other side. Groaning to himself, he flicked the remains of his cigarette into the rippling waters down below.


	3. S03E03: "Lord of the Fallen"

It was possible to find places that were a lot safer outside of one’s homeland, but many people didn’t have the desire to do that since it meant leaving familiar things behind. Toronto was probably one of the few cities to actually be reclaimed, by the Canadian people, from the dead, despite its population count. From what was last heard from radio broadcasts by other survivors, cities such as New York City, Houston, and Los Angeles were cities completely devoured by the dead. Of course, people who were smart enough escaped and never looked back, but that didn’t guarantee longevity. You had to be smart enough to do more and adapt. There were some people who decided to travel out to the countryside for a number of reasons. Some even believed that maybe the dead problem was just a “city thing”— the rationale that the dead wasn’t a global threat was commonplace and it helped people sleep better at night. Because what people were afraid to admit, was that no matter where you went and no matter where you looked, you could never escape the problem.

Miles into the far east of Toronto was Maine. Elsewhere, in the small town of Limington was another group of survivors, a thriving group that was trying to make a revolutionary name for themselves and recruit as many members as possible. That sort of thing, however, wasn’t easy to do in such a small town whose population only managed to grow by three-hundred in the last ten years. Now that the Fallen was around, the count only declined, just not by much.

This community stayed in an old chapel that was abandoned years ago even before the outbreak. Initially, it started off as a drug house for the town's houseless but was eventually cleansed out—something, that the leader of this community, thanked the apocalypse for. The chapel held probably about thirty-something members. Ages usually ranged from young adults to that of a particular age for both men and women. Unlike many other communities, this one appeared to be uniform in their daily routine and in a very literal sense: The standard uniform was black button-up shirts of varying sleeve lengths and khaki slacks. What kind of community member allowed people to wear uniforms? Especially during a time like this? An organized one is what the leader would say.

A young woman named Essa walked towards an older gentleman who was preparing the chapel with three others. He heard the young lady call out his name—”Gerrard” his name bounced off the walls. He turned away from his sweeping activity. He was somewhat of a plump man who turned bright red whenever he blushed or chuckled heavily. He stood a little over six feet and lacked hair on the top back of his head. And although he was in his early forties, he maintained somewhat of a baby-face with his straight edge. The only difference between he and a few others was instead of a black button-up, he wore a white one.

“What is it, Essa?” Gerrard rested the broom on a nearby pew.

“Gael, Huxley, and Triston just left.”

“Good. And this person that they’re getting—you’ve spoken to them on your last recruit right?”

“Yes. He was a little...difficult, but once we got through to him, he seemed very interested in joining our movement.”

“Good. I can’t wait to meet them,” Gerrard said.

* * *

The situation at hand was to meet a stranger that 

the community had already met with a couple of times before—a former businessman who struggled with finding a new role within this post-society. From previous interactions, he expressed that he tried taking his own life before but was ultimately too cowardly to enact on it. Not to mention, he lost all of his family to this world; his father, his mother, his wife, and even children. He always prided himself on being a strong husband and father, but he felt that the moment he took his life away, his family name would’ve been wiped clean, leaving no recollection of who they were to anyone. It’s why Gael and Huxley were brought along. Considering this businessman’s struggle with depression and loss of family, Tristen felt like they could better get across to the businessman who seemed so reluctant to start anew. However, it was also a test to prove themselves vital to the Haven.

Tristen was part of Gerrard’s committee, meaning he, along with three others had the utmost important part to play in his community. People usually claim that uniforms are a way to prevent separation between roles and class, but Gael ultimately thought that was bullshit. From what he last remembered on his own crash course, the white was supposed to symbolize ‘purity’ or some shit like that. Apart from that, it was clearly was a symbol of their status among his community.

Despite the weather dropping below the thirties, it was suggested to maintain warmth underneath your uniform to avoid coverage of it. Only on extremely cold days did they normally wear coats—and this was one of those days. Despite the ideology behind uniforms, the things the community did to uphold their “professional” appearance was downright materialistic, yet amazing. Surprisingly, it did the job at making them all appear primped and pampered. Tristen wore his usual uniform underneath a long black trench coat with a black felt cowboy hat and very much resembled a sheriff from an old western tale. Slung over his shoulder was an old model of a Winchester rifle. Gael wore a navy colored wool jacket that was more on the formal side. Wrapped around his right leg was a holster and inside of it was a Super-Shorty shotgun. Other than being known for his silence, Gael didn’t really have much of a role to play. Huxley wore a coat similar to Gael’s, except it was black and came with a detachable hood. He too was armed with a Winchester rifle but didn’t care to remember the model. Huxley, despite only being a recent member was already making a good impression and was appointed second in command on this mission  _ particularly _ . To him and Gael, they thought this meant being part of the committee and there was nothing more promising than that. Gael, however, felt indifferent about it.

The destination in which they were traveling to was within walking distance. The home sat on a lifeless, flat plain of dead grass. Like multiple other homes in the town, there was the usual red, white, and blue flag that drifted lifelessly in the dead, winter winds. There were two cars in the driveway, both completely stripped of headlights, doors, wheels, and etc.

“That was quick…” Huxley examined the brick-red ranch.

“Told you it wasn’t that bad,” Tristen smirked.

“Then why do my feet hurt?” Gael remarked.

“You’ve been wearing those shoes out for almost two years now, haven’t you?” the committee member pointed out, receiving a deadpan eye roll from his thin friend.

They walked up to the porch’s two wooden steps, creaking with every step they took. Being the last to walk up, the middle step snapped as just as Gael nearly made it up to the porch. He yelped, feeling the sharp ends of the snapped wood scrape the side of his calf. Quickly, his comrades ran to his aid—Huxley being far more concerned than Tristen could even pretend to be. After Gael managed to unfix his foot from the hole, he was pulled up onto the same level as the others,

“You alright?” Huxley dusted off Gael.

“I’m fine,” Gael repelled Huxley’s hands. 

He pulled up the hem of his pants, seeing a slightly torn sock and a thin graze that slowly began bleeding.

“Now isn’t the time to whine. We have a job to do first, so if you wanna be a pussy about it, at least wait till we go back to the Haven.”

Gael exchanged glares with Tristen, leaving Huxley surprised on the side. Tristen had a mouth on him, but there were somethings he said that just needed to be filtered.

“I said I’m fine,” Gael’s nose flared.

In his defense, Tristen wasn’t charmed by Gael’s negativity and snappiness. It was something he had to endure ever since the two first met and it was a behavior that was strictly forbidden against the commitee. At first, people made excuses for Gael, saying that he’d eventually stop, but there was a pure disdain that Gael had towards him and he never understood why nor did he want to. Always being the first to look away, Tristen returned to the door. Lifting his finger to ringer the doorbell of the home, he realized that it was broken, pressing a mashed in button. Cautious with how that might have made him look, he lightly knocked on the door instead. Even after knocking it a couple of times, he still didn’t get an answer. There had to be someone there. The last time Tristen met with this person, they said they had no way of traveling of plans of leaving their home since staying locked in was all they did. Recalling how fearful he was, it would be a miracle if this person even stepped out to empty a bucket of shit. Catching something at the corner of their eye, Huxley walked over to the nearest window seconds before the curtains and blinds stopped ruffling from the inside. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his face to the netless window, telling them that there was definitely someone or  _ something _ inside of the house,

“Maybe we should leave?” Gael nervously suggested.

“For what? Didn’t you just hear Hux, there’s someone in there.”

“What if he turned or something? Didn’t you say he didn’t have necessities to live much longer?”

Ignoring his speculations, Tristen began banging the door,

“Mr. Albertson, we know you’re in there. Open up, please!” He banged louder every three knocks, “The louder I bang the more those dead things will show up!”

He had spoken too soon. As Gael looked over his shoulder, he could see a couple of the Fallen wandering out from behind trees and neighboring fields. Just as planned a short old man frantically opened the door in nothing but a bathrobe he had been wearing for the last few weeks,

“Okay! Stop! Stop!” he cried out from behind the screen door.

He rattled like a maraca and opened the screen door for everyone to step inside. Seeing that this man had been locked in his home for nearly two years, the state of his home was in absolute shambles and the smell inside of his home was worse than the inside of any Fallen they ever gutted. Tristen forgot to forewarn Gael and Huxley of this, so when he saw Gael bring his hand up to his nose, Tristen quickly smacked it down once Mr. Alberson turned away. Mr. Albertson looked like a character straight out of a nursery rhyme—or a civilian of Whoville from Dr. Suess’  _ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  _ Although he didn’t need to, he was apologetic for the mess, which definitely told Huxley that the funk Albertson was currently living in, had consumed him.

Minutes later and they were able to get through one of Albertson’s many protective walls. He only recently felt comfortable making eye contact but he was still a skittish gentleman. In Tristen’s hand was a collection of polaroids recently taken of the Haven—the home of the three fellows who were couped up on his love seat. Questioning why Gael and Huxley weren’t in these photographs, they followed up, explaining their recent joining, which could possibly motivate Albertson to get on board with them.

“The water?” Mr. Albertson questioned.

“We have a well out in the back of the chapel. It’s in the forest but we always send a party of people out to fetch it. We also collect rain inside of barrels in the shed.” Tristen explained.

“And food?”

“We have experienced hunters. That or we either go out scavenging. Lots of wild boar where we live.”

To Mr. Albertson, this sounded far too good to be true, but every time he looked up at three handsome faces, he could clearly tell they were well fed and spoiled. Tristen was a tall strapping young man that Albertson certainly would’ve married his daughter off too. Underneath his cowboy hat was short hair he took time to slick back with some effective hair gel. Huxley possessed a choppy buzzcut and some stumble surrounding an incredible jaw. Apparently, he taught French to some of the people in his community. Gael was tall and gracefully lean, having clear brown skin with a golden undertone. His head was shaved around the sides and back, leaving side-swept curls on top.

“Mr....Albertson,” Huxley walked on eggshells with the mere tone of his voice, “If you’ve never left this place...how did you manage to live this long?”

Albertson reverted back to his old state. There was obviously no good answer to this, but he figured that now would be the best time for him to open up and be truthful about his unpleasant experience. Huxley received menacing glares from Tristen, causing Huxley to stare into his lap,

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer,” Tristen forced a smile. 

He reached forward and rested his palm on Albertson’s hand. The smile was so fraudulent it nearly pained Gael just to see it. He rolled his eyes and, if anything, became extremely impatient with this older stranger’s remoteness.

“I ate cat food…” Albertson’s voice shook, “and animal carcasses of anything I could find. Rat, possums, raccoons...” Tristen hoped his face remained the same color. Uncomfortable, he  _ very _ slowly pulled his hand away from Albertson’s, discreetly wiping it on Huxley’s thigh. Huxley’s mouth dropped, looking over at Gael in hopes that he witnessed whatever was occurring. Mr. Albertson took off his glasses and placed his fingers on his eyelids to prevent some tears, “I had enough water to last me months but then I ended up collecting the water from the toilets and…” he paused, beginning to sob even harder from what he felt was apparent humiliation.

“It’s okay…” Gael attempted to comfort him. Ultimately, it was a feeling he resonated with—feeling hopeless. The only difference was that Mr. Albertson had no one left but himself. He told him a secret that not many people knew, “I once ate animal feed. Sometimes it takes you being in a really desperate place to resort to that. So, it’s okay, I understand. It’s why we’re offering you a chance to join us. So you won’t ever have to resort to that again.”

Mr. Albertson pulled himself together and put back on his glasses, reexamining the photographs, including one with members of the group. He examined a lot of their faces. The age range was diverse and they all looked happy.

“What exactly is this group?”

“We call ourselves the Mortemists,” Tristen answered, shifting himself forward to the edge of his seat.

“Mortemists?”

“Yes,” Tristen nodded, “Mortem—meaning death. I guess you could say we’re a growing movement. It sounds a little morbid and dark, but it’s our philosophy that really explains what we want. Instead of fearing this world and the Fallen we’re trying to prove that we can embrace this world and thrive in it just as we did before. Not just get by and survive, but live. Maybe even use the Fallen to  _ our _ advantage. Coexist.”

Mr. Albertson’s face looked puzzled,

“The Fallen?”

“Yes. The Fallen are what we call the dead,” Tristen explained even further, “Instead of dismissing all of the deceased as if they’re just rotting corpses who deserve to be exterminated, we recognize them as people who once used to live their lives just like we use to. And while trying to return to our old lifestyles, we just put them down respectfully and peacefully,” As if he just remembered something Tristen reached over into Gael’s shoulder bag and pulled out a photograph of graveyards with headstones in front and in back of the church, like sprung daisies, “We bury them on the property.”

“Sounds like a church,” Albertson said.

Tristen gave a light chuckle--a smug one,

“Praying is probably the most religious we can get but a lot of people do that nowadays. Our leader may preach here and there, but we like to look at them as if they’re motivational speeches.”

Suddenly, there were some noises coming from some rooms in the back. Soon after, there were moans. By that point, it was quite obvious that Mr. Albertson had something in his house and he lacked the balls to get rid of it. To demonstrate his learnings, Tristen offered him the chance to give his loved ones a proper goodbye and a proper burial. However, Mr. Albertson said he needed some time to think about it. 

Eventually, it was time for the three young men to leave. Unexpectedly enjoying their company more than he expected, Albertson did whatever he could to have them stay longer, but they ran out the door quicker than they had run from anything in their life. However, just before they could say farewell, Tristen purposely asked Huxley if he could kindly shake Mr. Albertson’s hand goodbye. Huxley thought of every excuse in the book to avoid physical contact with a hand that had a mysterious brown build-up underneath its fingernails, but Albertson kept insisting that he didn’t mind. Huxley gave in and shook his hand, slipping out of the handshake than one would normally last.

Once they were off his property they briskly strode until they were no longer in Mr. Albertson’s sight. Tristen hawked up a loogie and violently spat at the ground. Gael’s vision nearly became blurred as he took in a breath of fresh air, nearly passing out. He confessed that he was holding in his breath minutes at a time while sitting on Albertson’s couch and momentarily rested onto Tristen’s back, who was bent over, still spitting at the ground. Finally, Tristen stood erect and fixed his hair before returning his wide-brim hat to his head,

“That’s our second recruit these past four weeks,” Tristen announced.

“How do you know he’ll even join,” Gael looked up at him.

“What?” Tristen exclaimed in disbelief, “Did you not see his face? He will definitely join.”

Tristen began walking in the direction of the Haven. Huxley took a step forward but was stopped once Gael rested his hand on his shoulder. Taking notice, Tristen questioned whether or not they were going to follow and Gael made it clear that they would catch up. Reluctant to turn away at first, he eventually carried on. Their eyes were pinned on him until he was finally out of sight,

“God, I hate that guy…” Gael looked up at Huxley.

“I think he’s pretty hot.”

Gael expressed his disgust by facial expression. Tristen was probably considered the best looking by others but it was obvious Gael felt indifferent about him. There was something demonic about Tristen’s eyes: So dark brown that they appeared pitch black. Even when the sunlight hit it from every angle. They also resembled a pair of circle lens’, having bigger iris’ than what appeared to be normal. It was something that spooked Gael out the moment he met him. His flirtatious comrade laughed and attempted to pull him closer by wrapping an arm around his intense friend’s waist, but Gael resisted,

“Felix. I’m serious” Gael briefly uncovered, “Did you see the way he changed up in there? He put on a completely different facade like it was nothing. That’s straight-up psychopathic.” 

He dismissed Jolyn’s suspicions, assuming it was just him being paranoid after everything they’d been through before being found by the Mortemists. Other than living in literal rags, they managed to fight off every enemy they encountered pretty well, but Jolyn thought living “pretty well” had less of a cost than living in lavish.

* * *

After dinner, everyone had to meet inside of the chapel. The interior of the Haven’s chapel was lit entirely by handmade white wax candles. It was so well lit, one wouldn’t even think they were sitting in the middle of a chapel with no running electricity. One of the Mortemists, Apollo, was a professional candle maker his whole life in Limington. It was a career he dedicated his whole life to, but as soon as the dead began to walk, his career was inevitably doomed—so he thought. When the Mortemists showed up to tell him that he could still have a purpose and do what he loved, he joined them in a heartbeat and has been happy since. Apollo was a man a seventy-year-old man who was raised in a time where he handcrafted candles the traditional way. As time went on, he had to get used to newer technology. It certainly made making candles quicker, but seeing that the world collapsed back to primitivity, he knew how to work around it. However, he recently became ill after a mysterious fever came over him. Being so close to Canada, the weather was pretty harsh on the Mortemists and despite their efforts to remain healthy, one or two people slipped. In this case, Apollo was the unfortunate one. Residing in an incredibly small town, the number of resources sometimes running thin. No one in their community had much knowledge in the medical field—hence why they had to keep recruiting. Thankfully, Apollo mentored two other members a thing or two about candle making. So hopefully his legacy and knowledge could continue to be carried on for centuries to come.

Seated in the pews of the chapel, Felix and Jolyn sat afar from one another. Ever since they were welcomed at the Haven, the people of the Haven were a lot more welcoming than they expected. However, Jolyn’s hesitance to become close to people began raising eyebrows and made people worry that his distrustful attitude could lead to some complications. So, as of recently, Jolyn made an effort to put on a fake smile to avoid dilemmas. In front of the podium was Gerrard, the one who pretty much ran things; the guy who officially founded the Mortemists eight months ago. Apparently, this movement was something he had planned years ago, minus the dead of course. But this year was the final year he made things certified. Day in and out, he raved about the importance of the Mortemists in the community, telling each and every one of them how much they mattered and how they all played an important part in making this community grow. It was the perfect segue to Mr. Albertson and the possibility of him joining them. Seeing that Albertson was a former member of the State’s government, this could really be the chance that the Haven got to make it a law-abiding community it was always meant to be. People were either delusional or too afraid to say it—but Gerrard was preaching a pipe dream. Upon request, Jolyn, who went as Gael, was requested to stand along with his partner “Huxley”. Beside Gerrard’s podium, was a pew separated from the others and faced in the opposite direction of the other Mortemists. Seated in it was Tristen, along with three others in white button-up tops. He too was told to stand and the entire chapel broke out in harmonious applause after they were congratulated for their effort to recruit a new member. Soon after the acclaim, Gerrard apologized for having to downgrade the mood by moving on to the topic of ill Apollo. Apollo was a sweet man known by everyone, and to know that he was at risk from a serious sickness, made people worry. Before the testimonial could be ended, someone was given a chance to speak seeing that the constant raising of her hand had been delayed for some time,

“What is it, Quest?” Gerrard inquired, giving her permission to talk.

She cleared her throat before speaking,

“It’s about Apollo,” She announced beforehand. All thirty-something heads turned to look at her, “I don’t think he’ll make it through another night.”

“Well, that’s why it’s your job to watch over him, Quest. You volunteered to do this,” Gerrard said, oddly misunderstanding her concern.

“I know but,” her voice began shaking, “He’s suffering and he could go any minute. I was thinking that instead of sleeping in his cabin, I could sleep with Aimee and Harrison tonight instead.”

“We all share cabins here, Quest. All of us. I don’t see the issue,” Gerrard said with a relatively calm tone.

This tone was a power that Gerrard had. Ultimately, it was patronizing. Despite the potential threats at hand, his tone was enough to make others question whether or not situations really did seem dire. Quest looked around, hoping that someone would at least side with her. She looked over at Aimee, someone she considered a close friend. However, once Aimee noticed the desperation in her eyes, she faced forward and kept her eyes on Gerrard, who was looking right back at her. 

After a moment's silence that everyone but Gerrard considered awkward, he concluded the gathering with no change of heart on Quest’s situation. Everyone walked out the backdoor of the chapel and into the yard of the property—the official habitat of the Haven. The yard was about an acre, and built close together were cabins large enough to house three to four members each. Dispersed at the most inner part of the field were three bonfires, controlled in order to avoid the Fallen wandering around after dark. The Haven was completely open to the forest and woodlands that surrounded it, so it was possible for the Fallen to welcome themselves in at any given moment. Usually, they would just dim-wittedly walk into the crackling fires and threatened nothing but the air with the sickening scent of their burning flesh.

Jolyn and Felix shared a cabin with Tristen, who had yet to move in with the committee. He had it all to himself before  _ they _ arrived, which was probably one of the reasons why he was so delightfully irritated by them. Since he was a higher-up, Tristen usually lagged behind and it gave the undercovered survivors to alleviate themselves of a few stresses. So, once both boys entered their cabin, Jolyn locked the door behind them and changed into their nightclothes. As a precaution, Felix would leave his boots on in case they had to go running out again. Looking over at Jolyn, he noticed a zoned-out look on his face. He was clearly deep in thought about something. Felix walked over and sat beside him on the bed. He reached over and pecked him twice on the cheek,

“We’re alone,” he said before giving him a kiss by the neck, “...Tristen isn’t here yet.”

When he wasn’t given the reaction he expected, Felix grumbled off to his bed and kicked his shoes off, pulling the sheets over his head.

“Do you think she deserves to be put in that situation?”

“Who?” Felix said from underneath his sheets.

“Quest,” Jolyn whispered even lower, “I understand where she’s coming from. I wouldn’t want to do it either.”

Felix slightly uncovered his head,

“Well, she did volunteer to look over him...she could’ve said no from the beginning.”

Jolyn paused,

“I guess so.”

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the door. Tristen could be heard swearing after he wasn’t let in during his first attempt at turning the doorknob. Wanting to avoid drama, Felix pulled the sheets back over his head and turned himself over. Although he wasn’t willing to, Jolyn stood up to let him in, seeing Tristen glaring right at him. His lip snarled before speaking,

“How many times do I have to tell you not to lock my damn door?”

Going by Gael, Jolyn apologized. Felix was already burrowed in his bed and although he was awake literally seconds before Tristen walked in, he pretended to be asleep because it mean lighting the fireplace. Jolyn rolled his eyes after noticing Felix’s boots sitting neatly beside his bedside. So Jolyn went to get his own pair. Grabbing a lit lantern, Jolyn and Tristen exited the cabin and walked back to the chapel where, along the side, there was a stack of chopped wood. Tristen brought back as many as he could, carrying about three underneath each arm. Seeing that he held the lantern in one hand, Jolyn could only carry three. Once they returned, Jolyn crawled into bed and let Tristen take care of lighting the fireplace. Once it was officially lit, he went to sleep as well.

About three to four hours later, the entire camp fell into their silent slumber. Every night, two members, usually the higher-ups, would put out the bonfires before declaring everyone safely inside and the Haven free of any of the Fallen. Everyone was wrapped in heavy blankets, maintaining warmth with the dying crackles from their respective fireplaces. 

As time went on and on, it was around the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately for the Mortemists, Apollo passed in his sleep within the first two hours of the camp falling silent. Seeing that it had yet to cause any commotion or discourse, it was ultimately what people would consider a peaceful death. However, the question remained: Was any death peaceful any more? The problem with this issue was that no one knew about Apollo. As everyone was recently reminded, Quest was the one responsible for watching over him. Spending every waking moment with him, she could see him slipping day by day. The responsibility to care for a dying man was something Quest never imagined doing and it was beginning to take its toll on her by giving her extremely paranoid and worrisome nights. Quest sat in a chair wrapped in a blanket at a safe distance from the fireplace. Suddenly, she heard a loud shattering that startled her awake. She gave a sharp inhale and looked around for the source. Looking down at the floor, she saw the porcelain cup of tea she prepared for Apollo the night before. Tea which he never drank from. She blinked repeatedly, hoping her eyes got used to the dim light the fireplace gave of. As she focused even more, she saw a shadowy figure making its way into the far left corner of the room—a couple of feet away from both the fireplace and her. The flames died down from the time they were lit and all it was capable of doing was revealing the outlines of Apollo’s figure. He was walking into the bookshelf, drawn by the loud tickings of a clock on one of the shelves. Listening closely, she could hear unintelligible snarls and groans that sounded all too familiar. As much as she tried to maintain some easy breaths, her heart pumped out of control. Slowly, sitting up, she reached over towards the toolset for the fireplace all while keeping her eyes on Apollo. Just then, the dismal flame went out. The young Mortemist panicked and accidentally knocked the tools down, causing a loud clatter. She picked up whichever tool and felt around the end of it, nearly pricking her fingers. Swiftly she stood up, hearing Apollo’s footsteps shuffle towards her. He pinned her against the opposite side of the room, allowing her to knock her head against a lamp installed on the wall, prompting her to drop the poker. Quest shrieked as loudly as she could, calling for help. But with the roaring winds outside and the distance between the cabins, she knew it would be unlikely that someone would come to her rescue. At this point, Apollo had a mouthful of Quest’s hair in his mouth, attempting to take a huge chomp from her scalp. Soon he eventually grabbed a handful of her locks and no amount of fuss or fight could get him to release her. Without much ability to move, she kept one arm extended and pressed against Apollo’s chest to keep him at a distance. His hunger for her was strenuous and he seemed to be getting stronger as time went on. With the poker too far out of reach, one of Quest’s arms searched around for something— _ anything  _ that could be of use. Finally, she felt a heavy hard covered book. So heavy that her wrist painfully cramped as she struck Apollo in the face with it. She struck him a few more times until he finally let go and pushed him back. Quickly bending down to retrieve the poker, she held it by the shaft with both hands. Once she stood erect, Apollo needed no more than a second to recover from his hit. With arms outstretched, he reached towards her again and rushed towards her. Holding it high up around his eye level she screamed while she chucked it forward into Apollo’s eye socket. Blood squirted out of his face and Quest turned away seconds before any could get into to her mouth, nose, or crevasses of her eyes. Quest was stunned and stared at Apollo’s body as it laid in front of her with the rod protruding from his face. She carefully stepped over its body and wiped away her bloody face, staining her white pajamas. Breathless and essentially hopeless, she walked over to Apollo’s bed and sat at the edge. As she remained in silence, tears streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

In the very early hours of the next morning, Jolyn and Felix were both being shaken awake by Tristen. Being light sleepers, their attention was gathered in no time. Jolyn always felt comfortable facing the wall meanwhile Felix always wrapped his comforter over his head, even in the hottest of weathers. Ever since the farm, it was part of Felix’s everyday lifestyle to wake up early hours of the morning but today felt  _ too  _ early everyone’s liking. Tristen had thin lines of blood on the lower parts of his pants. After Jolyn pointed it out, Tristen ignored them and just requested they follow.

“What time is it?” Jolyn asked after Felix inquired why today felt so irregular.

“Come. Quickly. Gerrard is waiting for us. This is important.”

Tristen had a bad habit of leaving the door ajar whenever he made a brief stop to the cabin and the cold air was quick to cut into Jolyn’s sleep time. Both he and Felix got themselves out of bed and put on their coats and boots over their sleepwear. Once they stepped out of the cabin, they realized one of the bonfires were lit and standing around it was other Mortemists. The bonfires were never lit this early considering that sunup would peak soon. If they weren’t lit after 6 PM, it was usually for burial ceremonies for “the Fallen”. Once Tristen announced that everyone was here, the circle formed by the Mortemists broke apart upon his entry and allowed the remaining three to join—revealing Gerrard, Quest, and Apollo’s dead body in the center near the bonfire. Quest stood vulnerably, keeping her head down, unable to look into the eyes of anyone surrounding her. They had participated in the burials before, but something about this was off. It was the first time they had seen anything like this. The passing of Apollo certainly had the entire camp shaken up but there seemed to be another feeling directed at Quest, as if she were already as good as dead. Gerrard welcomed both of them by their aliases and turned his attention back to Quest. This is where it began,

“As all of you can see, Apollo has passed away and we have come to mourn him. Unfortunately, Apollo wasn’t given any proper deliverance. He was defiled after he became one with the Fallen,” Gerrard eerily turned his head to Quest, she had avoided looking up at anyone until she heard her name being spoken, “Quest. Tell us what happened,” Gerrard stepped aside as if she was given the floor.

“I killed him.”

“And you are fully aware of what happens to people who defile the Fallen? Especially those close to us who pass?”

Tears rolled down Quest’s cheeks as she turned away, feeling his and everyone’s cruel gaze watch over her—cruel in a sense that no one would probably step in to save her. Suddenly, someone else spoke without authorization. She was hesitant at first, struggling to get the words out, but seeing that all eyes were on her, she managed to say something,

“Gerrard. I-I don’t think she meant it.”

Gerrard kept his composure, having a faint smirk appear through his speaking,

“I found a poker in his head. What makes you think she didn’t mean it? She intended to kill him.”

“Yes, because he was going to kill me if I didn’t!” Quest spoke up for herself through a shakey voice.

Jolyn carefully studied the disputes in silence, whereas Felix was so riled with panic, he hadn’t figured out yet if this was a citizen’s trial for a public execution. Gerrard went on to explain that this was the way things were done. But to his dismay people were becoming unfavorable of it. From the first time it happened, people didn’t know what to say. And the more it happened, it sure kept everyone in line. He requested that Quest kneel in the cold dirt and hold out both of her arms. Soon afterwards, she was instructed to roll up her sleeves and expose her wrists. Gerrard turned and looked at Astrid, another one of his most trusted people on the committee and requested her to get something from their adorned cabin. Both Jolyn and Felix were unsure what was about to, but from the looks on other’s faces, they were clearly sickened.

“Stop him,” Jolyn muttered, nudging Tristen in the elbow.

“I can’t!” he aggressively nudged back.

“What do you mean you can’t? Aren’t you like his apprentice or whatever?” Felix fumbled, “The hell is going on? Are they going to kill her?”

Feeling as if Jolyn’s gaze were to set him ablaze, he glanced over him one last time before feeling guilty enough and stepping forward. He froze in place and watched as Astrid returned with a pair of thin, worn out cables in hand. Tristen had seen them used on others before and witnessing the punishments alone was unsettling. Uncertainly, Tristen took another step forward, taking off his cowboy hat, hoping it’d be seen as some sign of respect. Gerrard carefully looked at him as he broke the bounds of the circle,

“What is it, Tristen?” Gerrard questioned. Tristen looked at the multiple pairs of eyes that were counting on him to be the voice of reason—or the only voice that could likely get through to Gerrard without any facing any scrutiny. Tristen buried his hands in his coat pockets, having his fingers tremble from the mere attempt to approach his leader. Gerrard smiled, having an itch scratched every time he had an epiphany about the intimidation he evoked among others, “I asked what is it, Tristen?”

“Maybe...we shouldn’t do this tonight,” Tristen broke eye contact. 

He looked down at Quest, who was on her knees, tear drenched skin reflecting vibrantly off the bonfires. Gerrard did nothing but give a scoff. A visible cloud of breath escaped his nostrils and vanished in the cold air within seconds,

“Get back in line,” Gerrard dismissed as if he were a measly school child.

“I just think…”

“ _ Get.  _ Back. In. Line…” Gerrard sternly said, clenching his cord even tighter, “I didn’t recently promote you to think. I promoted you to do what needs to be done. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Tristen feebly nodded with a nervous gulp and took a couple of steps backwards until he was right between Jolyn and Felix again. Stunned by that alone, the entire group realized there was nothing left that could be done to save Quest the embarrassment, humiliation, and torture. Quest sat with one wrist out, had her sleeves rolled up while two of Gerrard’s men held her shoulders. Gerrard prepped himself and swung the first lash, hearing it slice through the air with a low whistle. 


	4. S03E04: "The Sting"

Ada, Noel, and Emberly traveled back on foot to the Underworld, carefully trekking through back streets to avoid any potential threats that surrounded this part of the city. Scoundrels and thugs were everywhere, with some definitely residing in the Underworld. One had to be heedful since they normally looked to start trouble. It wasn't proven, but it was strongly rumored that half of the reanimated strolling around Toronto were people who were murdered in cold blood post-end of the world. So, basically, a lot of the reanimated roaming were the works of other survivors.

Finally, the trio reached their preferred street: A four-way intersection. Seeing people being checked in and out of the Underworld, each was checked in by a different guard, each on a non-traditional payroll. Although it had been a few hours since the opening time, for the first time in many weeks, the checkpoint was actually operating the earliest anyone could recall—and quite quickly if they might add. Noel managed to get past, hiding Mathieu's switchblade in his sock and Emberly stashed her remaining fireworks in an abandoned building she hid many treasures in before. Ada was frisked last and met up with Noel and Emberly at the bottom of the steps.

As soon as the day started, sales did. The Underworld not only served as a place of refuge but it was also a place of business and capital. People both inside and from outside waltzed around the Underworld in search of any valuables they needed. Seeing that the underground location was nearly overpopulated, the addition of just a handful of people was enough to make everyone feel like bees in a colony, having to work tirelessly to keep this place running. The trio pushed through Underworld residents and visitors who were essentially apocalypse backpackers. Emberly and Noel walked past the fare gates as Ada lagged, silently shopping for items she possibly needed. What she really needed was a weapon, a gun or a knife. The last person selling weapons was exiled seeing that it endangered more lives and although it was forbidden to sell those weapons in the Underworld someone under wraps was around to do it. Ada glanced around. Tables to her left carried hygienic products, fire-starting tools, scraps of metal for various uses. Tables to her right sold bottles of wine and liquor by pours, wigs made from the dead, and Emberly's all-time favorite: Fireworks. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Ada recognized a lot of faces around her—people she had exchanged words with before, whether unkind or not. Unless you wanted to delve deeper into the market of the Underworld, you had to go past the fare gates. Just before the fare gates and turnstiles were some of the vendors that thought being closest to the exits and entrances would serve them really well, and it usually did. However, this time around, there was a man she had never seen before. Someone new. And this outsider seemed to have a lot of people circled around them. There was no pushing, no shoving, and no hassle. Something extremely rare for a crowd of varying people down here. It almost seemed like there was some sort of public conference going on and Ada wanted in. Moving about, she was now placed nearby behind a tall glass barrier that separated her from Noel and Emberly-who already slid past the fare gates, Ada gestured for them to go on about their business. Seeing that Emberly was clearly capable of handling herself, being in the subway was enough for Ada to feel good enough about her safety.

"What's she doing?" Noel rhetorically questioned.

He was willing to wait. But as he did, he received unsolicited blown kisses from nearby women. He wasn't against them. In fact, he very much respected their line of work and the fun that they managed to incorporate into their daily lives during a time like this. Blushing at the sight of a few beautiful young women who invited him to accompany them, he placed his hands on his hips and silently denied their offers, acting as if he was being extremely charitable by having to keep an eye on Emberly. As expected, they thought it was admirable and cute. Emberly rolled her eyes and shook her head as he carried on flirting back with the curvaceous women. Suddenly, he heard a familiar noise of tap shoes running about. Looking over, he saw his companion, Taps, running up the stairs towards him.

"Noel! My bruv! My mate!" he expressed in excitement, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you, where have you been?"

In between, he momentarily became distracted by the side-lined women as well but eventually returned. He looked almost as if he was going to pass out. Being the eccentric man that he was, he rambled and rambled before getting to the main point which was that some 'big wigs' wanted to help upgrade their booming shoe business, and by 'big wigs' he meant someone with the Council. There had been rumors of council members coming in and partnering up with salespeople in the Underworld in exchange for some wonderful benefits—better access to necessities and being welcomed into the council association itself. A smile grew across Noel's face and he playfully grabbed his buddy by the lapels of his coat,

"What the hell are you doing up here!? Who's watching the totes!?"

"I-I-I got," he attempted to recall the 'bloke's' name, "Tracey! Tracey said he'd watch it for just a second and you know how he is so we've gotta get back pronto."

Noel, for a split second, remembered Emberly just as he dashed towards the stairs that led down to the lower levels of the subway. Nearly slipping off the third step, Noel looked back at her,

"Wait!" He looked back, "Emberly will you be alright?"

She nodded,

"I'll be fine. I'll just look for Olimpia."

Noel resumed his rush but returned one last time, having Taps wait five steps below him.

"And tell Ada I'm really sorry but this is really important. Just tell her it has to do with the council."

Although she had no intention to, Emberly nodded. She watched him and Taps vanish into the clamoring crowd as they flew down the stairs.

"Aw, did someone leave the little baby abandoned?" A nearby purple-haired woman teased. She and another whimsically dressed man began cackling obnoxiously at this wild assumption, leaving her to give them disgusted looks. Good for herself, Emberly gave them the eye roll of the year,

"Has anyone ever told you your hair looks like red cabbage?" Emberly asked with a disingenuous smile. She watched as the woman stood unamused, holding a cigarette between two fingers. Her companion continued giggling, giving Emberly more leeway to speak her mind, "I don't like red cabbage."

She turned away and waltzed down the stairs as the purple-haired woman glared at her departure, shushing her laughing comrade.

Ada, on the other hand, was still intrigued by the gathering. She walked ahead and quietly made her way through the crowd of survivors, tip-toeing to see what this new face was offering that evoked so much public interest. The reactions, as far as she could tell, were mixed. Standing behind another woman who was somewhat her same height, Ada peeked over and around her shoulder, seeing what looked like four small children bound together by their feet. Ranging in age from pre-teen to teenagers. Ada's mouth fell agape as her eyes widened. She looked at the others surrounding her, hoping to judge whoever was okay with this.

"Disgusting…" she heard a raspy woman's voice beside her.

Ada turned around and made brief eye contact with the woman, overall feeling some relief that she wasn't the only one bothered by it. Too stunned to even catch the last few words of this random man's announcement, he concluded his speech by coaxing up some questions.

"What do you sell them for?" A random man behind Ada asked.

"Anything high-in-demand will do."

"Like a car?"

"Sure. About three of them," he thought of an example, something that almost came across as bragging, "I had a man once trade two cars. Both with trunks full of rifles."

He said it so mockingly. He knew the people down here didn't have such resources like that. Even if they did, it was still wrong.

"What do you gain from this?" Ada's voice suddenly cut through the chatters.

The man stared at her, taking everything, from her age to the way she looked into account. Needless to say, he didn't really care whether or not she felt opposed to it. He was once like her and all it took was some rewards to see how it worked out.

"I gain a lot from this. I gain respect, I gain tools for survival, I gain property, and most importantly—notoriety," he bragged some more, "A man sold me his entire crop field for a child. Another man sold me a pure water tower out in Ottawa for two."

"How many have you sold?" Ada questioned, fearing the answer she would receive.

"More than nine. Less than twenty."

"What do they need them for?"

"Any reason. Labor," he paused, "Personal."

Being a person who once dedicated most of her time looking after children, and looking after one now, this situation was hitting Ada true and personal. The gentleman winked at her before she could turn away and walk away from the crowd, beckoning the children to follow. She knew the world had become primitive once again but she never knew humanity could stoop this low just because dead people started to walk. Besides the few people who could turn away before she did, a few others surprisingly seemed to be in favor of having a child at their side to do their dirty work. Notably, a lot of those people were salesmen and saleswomen, hoping that it could be beneficial to their business somehow. She recalled some of the stranger's words, referring to their children's minds as brilliant, but exploiting it for being capable of espionage and weaponized innocence.

Back to Emberly, she went to the far end where she, Ada, and Olimpia usually camped. Just as expected, Olimpia was there, helping out the older folks with getting their day started. When Olimpia saw her, Olimpia stopped what she was doing, stood up and welcomed Emberly into her arms. Holding her face, she looked down at her,

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?!"

"I'm sorry," Emberly apologized, "I won't do it again," she said for about the hundredth time.

Olimpia scoffed, finding it almost impossible to ever remain angered at her. She reeled her back in, burying Emberly's face in her chest. This time, the hug felt as if Emberly really needed it. Without giving any signs, Olimpia momentarily wondered where this sudden tenderness was coming from.

"Where's Ada?"

"She's still upstairs. She was shopping around."

Olimpia let out a sigh of relief.

When the time for them came to finally reunite, despite Olimpia wanting to jump on Ada and have an overreaction, she kept her composure and greeted her cordially. She was unsure whether Ada felt the same way, but Olimpia had overall grown a deep connection with them. It felt almost familial seeing that she was already used to being the older sister. Despite being older, Ada had proven herself to be way ahead of her time and it was something she was instilling in Emberly without even realizing it. Olimpia, on the other hand, hoped to instill something in Emberly as well, but she wasn't quite sure whether or not she had accomplished that yet. She wanted to make it her life's mission ever since Emberly started acting out. Olimpia and Ada sat on the platform floor, having multiple burn barrels crowded in the center of the platform. As an accomplishment in everyone's eyes, the underground managed to have some electricity restored on this very atypical day. Although it wasn't much, ten flickering lights, out of a hundred and something others, were enough to restore some sort of decency to someone's day.

Ada rested her head on a backpack used as a pillow, keeping her hands placed on her growling stomach. Olimpia looked over at her, finding it difficult to ignore the sounds,

"Hey," Olimpia reached over, placing her hand on Ada's arm, "I know you hate it but Phillip and his mother are grilling food on the lower levels."

"I don't have anything to trade for that right now," she became embarrassed.

A whole night out and she only came back knife-less.

"It's okay. He owes me. I gave him five bullets yesterday. That's gotta be worth more than three grilled rats."

Ada swallowed her pride and sat up. She had to be honest with herself anyway. As much as she found eating sewer rats the most revolting thing ever, she knew it was her only way of survival. Although it sounded disgusting, they were pretty good once cooked to perfection. Besides, she had depended on nothing but skewered rat for the past couple of months—they all had. Her, Emberly, and Olimpia. Eating all sorts of critters were so normalized that eating any other rodent or reptile was an upgrade. As she and Olimpia prepared to head to the lowest level, they both spotted Emberly walking in from the sidelines. By the look on her face, she had obviously been pick-pocketing. After being called over, she respectively approached them. Asking whether or not she was hungry, she was inclined to say no, knowing the cost of having to support her all the time. It took a longer gaze for Emberly to finally confess,

"Okay, maybe a little."

"Olimpia and I are going down to see if Phillip and his mom can spare us some food."

As they walked down the stairs, Emberly thought it'd be proper to sit and wait atop the steps for when they returned. Turning her head just to scratch an itch on her scalp, Emberly took notice of a young boy. Her interested stares were reciprocated when he did nothing but glance at her every now and then. People had offspring in the Underworld but rarely were they ever people around her age group, nor did they stay around long enough. They were either newborns, toddlers, or adolescents that were far older than she was. Families, for the most part, avoided the Underworld because it just wasn't a safe place. A mother or father would rather sleep in a cave knowing that their children would be safe than sleep in a hellhole with one eye open every night.

Finally, Ada returned with Olimpia. After identifying each other before approaching one another in the darkness, Emberly was luckily given a fried squirrel on a stick while the others enjoyed their rats. Emberly sat in place and bit into her meal meanwhile her older guardians walked off into the neighboring train cart. Wiping her mouth clean with her sleeve, she looked over at the random boy for a final time. Picking up the courage to speak to her, he began striding towards her. She wasn't sure what this meant. Seeing that she had a hard time getting along with people in this place, she clenched her squirrel-on-a-stick between her teeth and quickly put on her mini-backpack. Standing, she placed her head down and prepared to walk away,

"Uh, wait," the boy said. She stopped and turned to look at him, sizing him up in the process. What she saw up close, she couldn't make out from afar: He looked like a typical child from a Rags musical. His jacket could be reliable had it not been for the five torn holes it had. The hem of his bottoms was shredded and had holes, revealing scabbed knees, and his left shoe was wrapped in loosening duct tape to keep the soles intact. He was used to the stares ever since he arrived here, "Where'd you get that?"

They both looked down at the skewered squirrel in her hand,

"Downstairs," she hesitated.

"Does it cost money?"

"Yeah…but not, like, money-money," she corrected. She studied his mouth—it was salivating. Whether or not he had the means to buy it wasn't important because it was surely obvious that he didn't. Holding the skewered rodent in her right hand, she held it up and offered it to him, "You can have it."

The young boy stared at her before she inched it closer to his face. He graciously took it and thanked her before breaking his composure and devouring it like a starving hound. Emberly was sickened but more at the fact that she met someone who starved more than her despite eating maybe once or twice a day if she were lucky. His devouring allowed specs to fall to the ground but it didn't stop him from bending down and picking up the pieces. Once he was finally finished, he stripped the skewer clean of any remaining meat. Her eyes were on him like he was a circus act: Youngest and fastest eater alive. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and snickered,

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she comforted, still trying to process what happened before her eyes.

"Thank you. I'll pay you back when I can."

"No worries. I'll grab some things later."

Suddenly, someone called for the hungry boy. He went by the name "Newton". Newton, who seemed somewhat relaxed after eating, returned to being tense. Newton turned to a very tall man with a slim build, very shaggy hair, and a five-o'clock shadow. He had somewhat of a tall yet wide nose and had a prominent jaw structure. In fact, he seemed very young and charming. That's when the shaggy-haired man looked at Emberly next, realizing that he might have cut into Newton's time with her.

"Made a new friend?" he accused almost playfully. From the looks on Newton's face, it didn't feel like a game at all. Instead, the shaggy-haired man used this moment to make a new friend of his very own, "What's your friend's name?" he asked Newton. He upheld a mysterious aura about him and instead of being truthful and admitting that he didn't know, Newton suddenly became adamant about learning Emberly's name. She told them, unsuspecting of anything strange, "Emberly, huh?" He turned away from the side and faced her directly. Newton, at this point, was dismissed with a simple jerk of the head. Newton strolled off a couple of feet away to assist another vendor that Emberly certainly recognized. However, the shaggy-haired man picked up where he left off. He examined her stance and unshakable demeanor, "You look like a pretty tough kid."

Emberly thought of the best way to respond to that, wanting not to sound too cocky but confident,

"I guess you could say that."

"You ever thought about getting a job and making some kind of income?" Emberly shook her head to the question. Looking to the side, she saw Newton, who seemed to be deeply invested in their exchange for someone who couldn't even hear, let alone make out, what they were saying. Returning her to their conversation, he asked her a pretty personal question, "Your parents around?" he asked. Emberly shook her head again, which raised his brows, "Sucks. I know what it's like for a kid with no parents to be out here. It's tough," he said. After noticing that she didn't have any response other than a minute of sorrow, he tried to make up for it, "I'm just saying if you want a job that can really benefit you I could help out. Think about it. A cool kid like you, having your own job?"

At this point, he was winning Emberly over. He sounded like someone who really had her best interests at heart and talking to him was like talking to someone who had the potential to be her friend.

The constant traffic in the subway was something that obscured people's vision and confused people's sense of hearing. In the middle of a nostalgic boy band conversation between Olimpia and Ada, Emberly's take on it was brought up and wanted, which caused Ada to search for her. Looking up, Ada recalled where they last left her—and thankfully, she was still there. However, what sat uncomfortably with Ada was that she was speaking to an adult whose silhouette looked hauntingly familiar. It was the man who sold the children. Olimpia studied the concerned look and traced the gaze, and as soon as Ada stood up, she did too. The overprotective cousin powerwalked, yet remained at a safe distance, within earshot. Ada shouted right away, demanding Emberly come over to her instantly. The tall employer looked over at Ada and recognized a pretty face such as hers.

"I have to go," Emberly said as she departed. She moved only a step until the gentleman put his hand on her shoulder,

"W-wait, who is that?" he whispered. He got down to her level and maintained eye-contact, "I thought you said you had no family?"

"You asked about my parents," she corrected, "They're dead."

Drawing the line there, Ada confronted him. Before things could escalate he removed his hand from her shoulder. She attempted to make a scene,

"Don't you _ever_ put your hands on my cousin again! Or I'll—"

Before she could finish, the man backed away. Whether it was to avoid trouble or not, he walked down the edge of the platform, carefully squeezing through crowds of people to reach the other end of the subway station. Noel, who hadn't been noticed by any of them yet, walked past the tall individual as he walked the opposite direction.

Ada grabbed Emberly by the hand and dragged her away. Olimpia remained in place, confused by Ada's actions. Once Emberly was brought over, Olimpia welcomed her into her personal space. She kept looking over her shoulder, seeing the shaggy-haired man eventually disappear out of sight,

"I don't want you ever speaking to that man again do you understand me? He's evil."

"Why?"

"Just—" Ada almost blew a fuse, causing a couple of eyes to look in her direction. She reasserted herself, "Just don't speak to that man again. He wants to hurt you, do you understand?"

Noel strolled in from the side, looking at the three of them.

"What's wrong?" Olimpia asked.

"That guy is a human trafficker. He trades children. I saw him upstairs giving some kind of lunatic speech on the 'benefits' of having enslaved kids or whatever."

"That's Zachariah Perez," Noel randomly interjected.

Ada was disgusted, presuming the fact that they personally knew one another considering she didn't know much of what went on in Noel's circle inside here. He clarified that he didn't know Zachariah and informed them that Zachariah was part of the council; a claim to which all of their mouths nearly dropped. He went on to explain that he and two other council members came down to the Underworld to check out some of the businesses going on and that Tap's and Noel's shoe business was something they were interested in.

"How can that asshole be apart of the council?" Olimpia asked, still looking around for him although he was long gone.

"I guess this is a bad time then?" Noel questioned.

"For what?" Olimpia responded.

"Taps and I got offered some special deals with them."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning they wanna work together with us," Noel said, awaiting an expression other than the ones they currently had on. The three girls stared in silence. What did this mean? That's what Noel was moving on to explain anyhow, "It means that we could get some extra benefits. Maybe a warm bed to sleep in. Better food. They have another community just for them from what I've heard."

Ada groaned, thinking back to her libertarian days.

"The food chain just doesn't stop, does it? No matter the era."

However, Noel wasn't finished getting to his next point—or rather—his next question: Would Olimpia, Ada, and Emberly come with him if they were offered the chance? Even after what just transpired?

The day went by fairly quickly and for the first time, Noel was actually tolerated around the girls. Ada still showed some resistance but she couldn't remain too cold around the young man who helped save her and her younger cousin. However, Emberly felt different about it. Noel was someone she felt like she had to tolerate because of their past. In her eyes, he wasn't a good guy. A good guy wouldn't do the things he did. No, he wasn't a verbally abusive jackass with a crossbow, a raging racist who hated Native Americans, or a bat-wielding rapist who murdered husbands and children—but this wasn't a period where people should be rewarded because they could've turned out worse. Sure, no one was perfect and everyone did bad things, but the intentions, motives, and the context was vastly important. Maybe Noel had seen his wrongs and maybe he did truly regret what he did, but the only way he could prove that was by bringing back the loved ones he killed. Emberly lost her aunt, cousin, and close friends because of him. Ada survived with his help but what did being with her mean to him? Maybe things would've turned out differently if his family didn't die as well—leaving Ada behind to fend for herself. As far as Emberly could tell, you could trust no one and if Ada forgave Noel? She was a fool putting on a tough-girl act.

* * *

Emberly found herself in a forest. She was unaware of how she got there or where it even led to. No matter where she turned or no matter where she looked, the forest seemed to stretch out miles as if it was the entire earthscape. Her hair was tied up in a slicked, neat bun, she had on the familiar uniform that she spent the majority of her time at the Chenot's manor—a uniform she just wanted to forget. Tears streamed down her face, feeling alone already knowing that she was the only person in this universe and that no one would be coming to rescue her no matter how hard or loud she screamed. Her shouts did nothing and no matter how loud she yelled, they amounted to nothing but a whisper. Turning as a result of dire confusion, she noticed a loud horde coming her way. The horde were the only ones capable of making noise. Their snarls and growls were louder than the earth itself and brushed up autumn leaves. Emberly ran and hid behind a tree but as she looked up, she saw another horde. They lifelessly walked toward something almost as if they had a purpose. And thankfully, they hadn't noticed her. All except one. But the closer she peered, it was a man. A nude, elderly man who had a shaggy dry beard and long hair that hung from the edges, leaving the top bald and glistening. From head-to-toe, the nude man was covered in blood, practically passing as one color. Beside his feet was a reanimated's corpse, mercilessly disemboweled like a turkey's carcass on Christmas day. The man brought his finger to his lips, "Shhhhhhh…" he went on for an abnormally long time. His shushing went on and on until Emberly fell into a crouch and covered her ears to dampen out the noise. She let out a silent shriek, feeling as if she were going mad.

That's when she woke up.

This was an encounter her mind had difficulty letting go of ever since her and Olimpia's escape from Julien, and it was something she kept to herself. She never understood why it kept haunting her like this over and over but it was becoming easier to deal with as time went on. Emberly slept in the rest of the evening. And that was a problem. By the time she'd wake up, it'd be past midnight and she'd be wide awake looking for something to do. She rolled herself out from underneath the train seats. Carefully looking up above her was Ada, completely snoozed. Across on the opposite side was Olimpia. They both did so much during the day that they'd be out like lights by the time it was curfew because things usually slowed down by that time.

She quietly shoved herself out of her child-like sleeping bag and woke, seeing someone rummaging through the belongings of other sleeping passengers on the train. It was taught by now that when falling asleep, you had to keep your belongings in a position where no one could steal it out from under your nose. There were people who lived off of stealing, and Emberly wasn't too far from them in a sense. She stepped foot outside of the train cart and looked to her left, seeing young Newton still outside on the platform, drowsily sitting in a folded chair. Hanging off of one shoulder, Emberly walked towards him while her hand rummaged through her backpack. While putting on her spectacles, she approaching him, greeting him just as his eyes looked up at her. He was clearly exhausted.

"Hey, Amber-Lee."

She was stunned by the butchering of her name. She had gotten Emily, maybe even Amber. But never something as ugly as Amber-Lee.

"Emberly," she corrected.

She examined his sales table. He was in charge of selling things such as mason jars and breakable glass bottles. Oddly enough, his employer wasn't around: A bald man with a long beard and a scar on his left brow. He was quite the pervert too. Then again, maybe his employer's absence was a good thing. Given the chance, Newton noticed that her hand was in her bag a little too long,

"Whatcha got there?" he asked. Truly, hoping it'd be some more food, "I remember you said you'd get some things."

Emberly felt around for whatever she was initially searching for and pulled out a pair of black shoes. They weren't high tops, but they were better than the abominations he currently had on his feet. She offered it to him,

"Whoa," he expressed in fascination. A smile appeared on his face and he took it from her, "These are for me?" As she nodded, he looked at the shoes in awe at how minimal yet appealing they looked. They were clean too as if no one had ever previously walked in them, "How'd you get these? How'd you know what size to get?"

"My cousin knows someone who sells shoes, so I brought you up and she asked if he could get you a pair. He's good at guessing people's foot size, so…"

Newton was a size 5.5, but a 6.5 wasn't too far off. In fact, it'd last him for some time. Considering the distance and darkness that Noel made his guess in—it was actually quite impressive. Without wasting any time, he put on his new pair of shoes, instantly disposing of the torn-up ones by leaving them somewhere for someone else to grab. He felt brand new, experiencing a whole new pep in his step as he prepared to break into them. As he strolled towards her he bounced around at the joints. For the first time, his feet felt warm and his soles felt protected. As she expressed how happy it made her seeing him enjoy his gift, he unexpectedly embraced her. Unprepared she only had room to lift one arm and awkwardly pat his back. Newton thought nothing of it once they broke apart. Claiming that Bishop—his bearded employer—wasn't around to nag at him, he offered Emberly the chance to hang around and talk for a bit, but she declined with the hint that she had important things to do,

"I was actually going to head out," she shrugged.

"Head out?" Newton walked back to his seat and sat down, "You mean go up there?" he pointed towards the ceiling. Emberly nodded, hoping she wasn't going to be judged. However, Newton was more concerned about her safety, "But isn't it dangerous out there? There are Strollers."

Emberly became momentarily dazed,

"Strollers?"

"Yeah. The Dead."

"They're called reanimated," Emberly certified before departing.

Afterward, she zipped up her backpack and flung it over both shoulders, unaware that something had fallen out of one of its pockets. By the time Newton could run to pick it up, Emberly had already vanished. Remaining close to his table, he searched around for her to no avail. Suddenly, his name was called out. "NEWT!" he heard. Looking over he saw Bishop returning and forcefully tucking his oversized shirt into his pants and buckling up. Secretly, he hid Emberly's item in his pocket.

Emberly traveled up the stairs, made her way past the fare gates and was permitted access outside by one of the guards at the entrance. Although she was just a child, that no longer hindered her anymore. Children, in this world, served all sorts of purposes and they weren't always the face of innocence as they were in the past. A child had to be tried as an adult because they were also capable of committing the same acts, if not better. Feeling as though she had been thrown into the wild, Emberly looked around her surroundings and saw the one thing that played the most important role in her midnight ventures—a reanimated. She hid somewhere as she waited for it's back to turn and snuck up behind it. Jumping onto its shoulders, it feebly collapsed to the ground, unable to hold the sudden weight upright. Once it crashed to the ground, she impaled it through the back of its head. Yanking out her blade, she immediately turned it over, dragged it by the legs into a hidden area, and got to business. By the time she was finished, she crawled out of the same spot, draped with its oversized clothing over her own, covered from head to toe in foul-smelling entrails. Lastly, she frisked it for belongings. As per usual, she found nothing of importance. Prepared, she slowly drifted against the grain of a quartet of reanimated wandering through an alleyway.

Walking nearly a mile out, she carefully crossed a road that led to an old, Canadian deli. It looked like it had blown up from the inside, having all of its windows broken out and shelves tossed about and picked clean. Creeping towards the back where the bathroom was, a reanimated, blocking the path, turned to look at her. It was a mid-aged man with brown hair, pale gray skin, and yellow-hued sclera. His left ear was split in half and the remains hung by a weakening piece of cartilage. Seeing that the skinny path was big enough for only one of them, Emberly generously let the reanimated walk out first. She watched its every move as it strolled past her and once it was out of reach, she secretly vanished into the bathroom. She entered one of the stalls and stood on the toilet seat. The bathroom was tiny, so reaching the ceiling was no problem. She pushed aside the foam ceiling tile and pulled out her two remaining fireworks for her to enjoy on the very last night she planned to sneak out. Tonight.

However, she heard some noises just outside the bathroom, coming from the hall. _Shit!_ She said to herself. Usually, the reanimated never returned unless they got a whiff of a fresh human. Quickly getting herself together, she armed herself with her pocket knife. As soon as she jumped out, she saw someone turn just as they were preparing to leave. To her surprise, it was a face she recognized from the subway—the woman who worked for the same people she stole the fireworks from. This particular person was the woman who was injured by Ada. She had a beanie over her long messy strands of blond hair and sticking out from her mouth was a cigarette. From the looks of it, she noticed the long ends of the fireworks, sticking out of Emberly's backpack.

"What the hell…?" the woman spoke, clearly possessing the voice of someone who smoked one too many cigarettes. However, she studied Emberly's face and her signature double-bunned hairstyle. She chuckled to herself, "Wish you would've stayed in there, huh?" Emberly was terrified. What could this mean? Emberly had never fought a grown woman before and she knew this meant that she would have to face the casualties they promised. Nervously, Emberly held up her knife, causing her opponent to retaliate by arming herself with her very own, "You sure you wanna do this little girl?"

Instead, Emberly tried to bum rush past her but her small frame could do nothing more than knock the cigarette out of the woman's mouth, which in turn got Emberly slammed to the ground and a knife put to her chin. Emberly began breathing heavily, on the verge of sobbing and begging for her life. But before she knew it, she was being holstered out of the deli from behind. Tears already coasted along her eyelashes, but she became even more dumbfounded when she saw herself being brought to the women's other employees—the ones she recognized as Toothless, the giant she stabbed in the leg, and one other man she had never met before,

"No! No! No! Please! I'm SORRY!" she squealed other incomprehensible words.

"Shutup," cigar-lady responded.

Suddenly she called out to her partners, announcing that she had found 'the brat'—music to all of their ears. Eventually, the blond woman's employees walked towards them, all being men of more stature and varying pigment than the female counterpart. Their initial look at Emberly had them wondering what the hell kind of drug she was on to be disguised the way she was. What purpose did being daubed in blood serve? For right now, it served as a question that could be answered later. The unrecognizable man pulled out a knife of his own, which made Emberly's heartbeat even faster. She cried through short breaths as he held it up to her neck,

"You wanna steal from me?" He asked rhetorically, having an unspecified Mediterranian accent.

"Chill out, Otis," the woman whipped out her second cigarette and put it in her mouth, unlit.

"You want me to chill out?!" Otis began to rave at his employee, to which she could do nothing but carelessly scoff at, "And exactly how many fireworks did this little bitch steal?"

"Five from what I last remember? I got two from her just now."

Emberly studied all of them as they exchanged words with one another. What was at hand here? If they wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead by now. It wouldn't make a difference. They were in the middle of the city where people turned every day. If she was ever found, how she died wouldn't be uncovered or even matter. She'd be amongst the insignificant dead that roamed the streets and were killed like roaches. She closed her eyes, as her breaths trembled. She hadn't done it for ages but she prayed that she would survive this somehow. She thought about all of the times Ada told her not to sneak out for this exact reason. Suddenly, she heard Otis as her eyes opened,

"Where are the other three?"

Emberly was too scared to lie or give an honest answer. She struggled with speaking, too terrified to even respond,

"Five fireworks. Five fingers. Three fireworks mean we get three fingers," Toothless chuckled, doing some snipping gestures with his hand.

"You're all forgetting the important part of the bargain," the woman said, sounding almost exhausted having to deal with these three knuckleheads.

"Which was?" Otis said.

"The more unharmed they are, the bigger the reward."

Emberly looked at all of their faces as if they all came to an understanding. She attempted to fight herself out of the woman's grip, ultimately to be grabbed by Otis as well. As she struggled to fight out of their holds, she inquired what they wanted to do with her, but they never gave her a clear answer, giving her nothing more than threats to forcibly calm her down. Two others eventually broke off, leaving Otis and the unnamed woman to be left alone with Emberly. After learning that she wasn't going to be killed, she fought to a point where she did nothing but exhaust herself. They waited at some unknown secluded area Emberly had never been. A few moments passed until a black muscle car, with a poor paint job, pulled up into their street, having headlights so bright they nearly gave her a headache. Finally, the car pulled up right beside them with two people in the front seat: A woman and a man. Both redheads. Possibly siblings.

The male in the passenger's side opened up the glove compartment and removed a flashlight. He thought it may have been the effects of the dark, but he flashed it in Emberly's face, nearly stunned. The woman in the driver's seat was equally at a loss for words,

"Why the hell's she covered in blood? What did you do to her?" she questioned.

"Relax, it's just Stumbler's blood."

When they clarified that it was some weird intentional thing the freak-child did, both of the newly encountered strangers opened up their car doors and swapped places.

"Put her in the backseat," the young woman said as she stood by the passenger side.

"What about our _payment_?" Otis asked.

"You get your payment after she's taken in and examined. For all we know she could be sick or injured," she said. When concerns about how Emberly was going to be restrained came into question, the red-headed woman gave a response that was remotely alleviating, "We get that this is just a job, but she's still a kid. Just put her in the backseat so we can get going."

Doing as they were told it took a lot of effort to put Emberly into the backseat no matter how hard she fought. When she was finally thrown in, the door was slammed on her before she could try and kick it out. She kicked repeatedly with both legs as she laid on her back and shrieked so loud it rang all four pairs of ears. Just then the car pulled off, leaving Emberly to sob loudly. Still laying on her back, Emberly stared at the rooftop as her eyes pooled up with tears and rolled down the sides of her face.

_Not again! NOT AGAIN!_


	5. S03E05: "Dead in the Water"

There were delays ever since the day the Rothenberg's retrieved their speedboat and, honestly, people just weren't ready to hit the waters. To many, the port was the safest place they lived in and they were all just too afraid of returning to whatever was out there waiting to get its cold, dead hands on them. However, as impatient as Vince was, he began to see that there was a bright side to not rushing everyone into risking their lives. As each day went on, more and more people began preparing themselves, only to eventually volunteer. Ranging from ages eleven to seventy, Vince only chose the most eligible and capable. The extremely youthful and elderly just weren't an option for him.

Despite there only being seats for six passengers, there was additional room for two more. Both Bart and Vince were going without question since they were technically the ones in charge of leading this whole mission. Bart was the only one who knew how to operate the boat and Vince had the log report and knew how to, somewhat, drive the ferry if they ever managed to locate it. When Vince worked at the port prior to the end of the world, he was nothing but a fare-person who checked passengers in. His job was fairly boring and repetitive, but the only thing that kept him from going stir-crazy was his lunch breaks. He would hang out with the captain on the bridge. His name was Roman and the last Vince had ever seen or heard from him was the day before corpse shit hit the fan. Vince took mental notes on how to drive the boat in case the day ever came where he managed to get a promotion of some sort. A promotion was something he had hoped for. In addition to Vince and Bart—Carlos, Dora, and Titus made three more. Then were others:

Quincy Gillian. Think the bootlegged twin brother of Chris Hemsworth. The living definition of an in denial, wannabe-hippie. He lived most of his adult life on his own and claimed to travel most of America by foot and mistakenly ended up in Canada; a story no one brought no matter how cheap it sounded. The only reason he tagged along this time was to see the room for a potential mediation area he proposed as a recreational activity. Although it may have sounded a little far-fetched, he was told it wasn't an option completely off the table just yet considering how rough and stressful these times could be. To make it all the more typical, he had extremely long hair that he usually tied up into a bun and on his left arm was a sleeve of tattoos, given to him by drunk amateurs he recalled as 'friends' from his past. Each had its very own embarrassing story.

Then there was Meg Peterson. Full name Megan. Aspiring singer slash hair designer. Meg was a tall, attractive young woman who was born and raised in Houston, Texas her entire life. She was visiting Canada with some of her roommates during school break. Then, when the infection spread, the group eventually wore thin due to death and disease. Once it came down to just her and another girl she wasn't too close with, they turned out to betray her. Physically, other than being almost the same height as most of the guys there, Megan stood out with her sudden attraction to loud colors and brightly colored wigs. Quincy usually found himself attracted to her, but she barely paid him any mind. She saw him as nothing more than a schoolboy crush.

Lastly, returning for the fun was Deyvis. Seeing how things turned out last time, he felt the want to take his role as a 'secret weapon' seriously, even if it was just thrown at him unexpectedly.

Everyone got themselves prepared, arming themselves to the teeth and even making sure everyone else was set to go. Vince did a headcount making sure everyone was there, but of course, there was someone who was missing. Someone, Vince wasn't surprised to not see around when he needed him most. Hoping this wasn't going to be another day where they delayed just at the last minute, Vince took a step away from the group and searched everywhere for his long-time friend, Titus. Saving inside of port headquarters for last, Vince eventually located Titus hiding in the men's bathroom overwhelmed and overthinking. Seeing that he initially voiced his opposition to this task, Vince could see this happening. You could certainly say Titus was overdressed for the occasion, wearing a thick leather jacket, an oversized turtleneck, cargo pants, and leather gloves. On his head was a balaclava, yet to be pulled over his narrow face, and around where the sleeves and pants cut-off, were sealed with duct-tape. He barely had any skin exposed. It wasn't stupid or anything, just unnecessary. One would be boiling indoors with that sort of attire, but the source of his sweat was coming from elsewhere. He looked stricken with anxiety, and as soon as he realized someone was entering the men's room, he faced away to rest on the sink. After a brief second, he looked into the mirror in front of him once he heard a pair of footsteps halt at the entrance. Vince was staring back at Titus through his reflection,

"You alright?" Vince questioned, having his voice slightly echo.

The relationship between him and Titus has been devolving. At times, they would even feel a sense of awkwardness if they were together in a room for too long with nothing to say. Sort of like now.

"I'd say I was just washing my face but obviously that'd be a lie," Titus admitted, "No water."

Again, it was one of those moments that Vince would consider awkward, but the more one really thought about it, it was something entirely different from awkwardness. It was guilt from how he treated Titus. He just personally hadn't figured that part out yet.

"We're all waiting for you down at the boat."

Titus tightly squeezed the edges of the sink just before pushing himself off from it. He turned to face his friend,

"I don't wanna go out there, Vince. I don't see the point of it. I'm just not used to those things. I don't want to see them again."

Vince gave an exasperated sigh,

"Titus, you made a promise."

"No! I didn't make a promise, you pressured me to do this! You pressured all of us!"

"And you're the only one complaining," Vince chuckled. A patronizing smile came over his face and Titus loathed that more than anything. He felt like he was being ridiculed and the obvious difference in their status was a strong factor,

"What about your promises? What about the times you promised me things and let me down!?"

Vince shook his head in bewilderment at the sudden accusation,

"I've _always_ kept my promises! For as long as I've been running this place, I have _always_ held up my end of the bargain," he argued. He was talking to Titus as if he was scolding a child and he was growing beet red over it, "That's why I'm taking my big ass out there and I'm gonna show these people that I actually care."

Titus snarled in disgust at Vince from where he stood and, for once in his life, decided to shut his yap and let someone else get the last word for a change. It was stunning to Vince. Maybe for the first time in Titus' life, he had nothing left to say because he to deal with something that was beyond fact. It was the cold, hard truth and he knew it. He had been a witness to it. Taller than his companion, Titus exited the bathroom with a trudge.

Finally, both Vince and Titus reappeared to the rest of the crew. The weather seemingly dropped between the timespan Vince departed to go look for Titus. It became a lot colder, windier, and the skies were graying. Not unusual for the later months of the year, but without meteorologists and forecasts around, you could never be too sure whether there was going to be a storm. Bart, wearing an orange beanie and navy bubble jacket, approached both men exiting the station and immediately about-faced to keep up with them back in the direction he came from. Bart's main concern was if Vince was still down to do this due to the unpredictable shift in weather. If Vince held off on it for another day, he knew that this procrastination thing would never ever stop, so his decision was final. Titus, on the other hand, didn't bother being involved in the conversation and grouched as he waited with the others. Dora, who already picked up on the stress, traded a look of predictability with Carlos. Meanwhile, others would assume cheering him up would be the right thing to do, it was best to stay out of it.

Finally, the speedboat was getting launched into the waters. With the help of Carlos' driving ability, he reversed the boat into the waters via the Rothenberg's truck and let Bart take care of the rest. Once the boat was finally docked, it was everyone's job to climb aboard. Dora had never been on a boat before. She was a woman of a particular age who had a lot of fears and phobias—fears that she had to overcome if she wanted to survive. However, she didn't necessarily have to sign up for this. She was the third person to step onto the boat and, as expected, she began to feel nauseated. She immediately sat down in one of the seats and held on to the steel handle for dear life. She began shaking her leg, slightly fidgeting her feet and hands about,

"You alright?" Deyvis asked, looking down at her from where he stood.

"I'll be fine," she said, already sounding breathless.

Despite her fears that the boat would actually sink from the number of people stacked onto the boat, she was actually put to ease seeing that it did the job at holding everyone up. Vince and Bart were the last two remaining on land. To the right of the speedboat was the ferry community. And from above came a voice, screaming from a group of people who watched from the top deck,

"DAD, WAIT!" Vanessa shouted, startling some of the older people around her. Quickly, she made her way off the ferry in about two minutes time and ran around until she reached where her father was located by the boat ramp. She was fresh-faced, wore a purple sweatshirt, grey sweats, and walked around with sandals and socks. Thinking it might have been something important, Vince waited for her announcement. To his surprise, she said something she apparently didn't second guess, "I'm coming."

"No," Vince put it simply as he proceeded to walk ahead before she could stop him. Removing her hand from his arm, he turned to look at her, "Vanessa, we already had this talk."

"Why can't I come?" She glanced over at the boat and saw Dora, "Dora, doesn't even look like she wants to do it. I'll take her place."

Geez, was it really that obvious? As much as Dora wanted to take the offer, she swallowed away the fear. Vince could never forgive her if she ever gave his daughter the chance to make this choice. So she lied in order to back up Vince's decision on keeping his only child behind. And as decisive and unrelenting as Vanessa was, Vince wasn't going to endanger his daughter—he explained this to her the night before. Even though it was the reality of things, Vanessa didn't want to think of it as risking her life. She looked up at Carlos and everyone else on the boat, finding it somewhat embarrassing to be undermined in front of those who clearly lived up to her dad's expectations. To her, it wasn't a matter of having to be protected or sheltered, it was believing that she was incapable, and oftentimes, she believed that maybe it was because she had yet to prove herself.

Concluding their conversation she stomped off. Being warned that the boat would drench her like a super-soaker if she didn't distance herself. Vince wanted to reel her back in for a hug and apology but Bart was there to reassure him that she would eventually understand.

Finally, they all climbed into the speedboat before it could be assisted further into the water by other crew members and residents of Port Providencia. Bart carefully steered the boat in the proper direction before starting up the motor and finally beginning to accelerate. Seeing that it took about fifteen minutes average, by ferry, to get to Toronto Islands, it took about double the time to get there by speedboat. Thankfully, it was long enough for Dora to somewhat get over her anxiety and enjoy this momentarily experience for what it used to be,

"So what's the plan?" Someone asked.

The plan was simple, actually: Look for the damn ferry and don't die while doing it.

"Simple and morbid," Carlos chuckled along with some of the other passengers.

During times like these, one had to just improvise and do what they thought was best. About thirty minutes later, they all reached the Toronto Islands. As they closed in on the land, they were unable to just dock just anywhere, so they slowly sailed between a thing passage of leafless trees. The trees crowned over the passage and danced around from the winds, feeling almost as if they were in a tunnel to a dark fantasy realm. Eventually setting the boat's momentum to drift, it silently sailed through the grey, leafless forest. Seeing that the weather was dropping more and more each week, the pond was on the verge of freezing, having chunks of ice break apart as the boat tore through them. Being familiar with the Island, Bart docked his boat in a location that was known as the Toronto Island Sailing Club: A spot where numerous other boats were docked as if it were a parking lot for boats. Predictably, it was like a ghost town and there wasn't a living soul in sight. Meg, whose first time it was volunteering for a mission like this, immediately became uncomfortable. She recalled the darkest days in her past, and the Toronto Islands had to be the bleakest she had ever seen the world. Seeing how stripped of life this island was, it nearly made her cry. She, like many others, thought an island would be the best place for refuge, but this only crushed those dreams. Everyone else stood up and exited the boat. Each carefully walked the boardwalk following it towards land.

"Oh my god, it's like a ghost town out here," Meg finally said aloud, clamping her freezing hands together as everyone followed.

"Did anyone see a ferry or anything that looked like a ferry, on the way in?' Vince questioned, checking the magazine of his handgun. They all shook their hands, already disappointed that they may have underestimated this mission, "Shit."

"Can't we do something with the boats out here?" Carlos questioned, wielding his odd sledgehammer as always.

"That's too much work."

"I'm gonna circle the island," Bart announced.

"Wait!" Meg called out to him as he prepared, "What are we gonna do?"

"Might as well gather some things while we're out here. For all we know that ferry might not even be docked on the island," Bart advised.

From the looks of it, it was a plan Vince could get behind. So Bart returned to his speedboat and made it clear that he would meet them back in the same place in the next couple of minutes. They watched as he maneuvered himself out of the club, cruising between undocked boats, and speeding through the path until he was out of sight. Working years at the terminal, Toronto Islands was practically like home to Vince. He was familiar with every inch of this place and he knew just where to go. He casually reminded everyone to "stay sharp" caring deeply that everyone makes it back home in one piece. They all huddled against one another like a herd of sheep, constantly on the lookout to protect one another. Suddenly, a reanimated jumped out from behind a tree, taking all of them by surprise. Just as Dora prepared to charge at it, Deyvis held her back. Removing his bow and arrow, he fired at it, powerfully nailing it in the chest. Impressive...if it were a person. Titus gasped. Even though using a bow and arrow was impressive, hitting your target in the chest was something that could no longer be praised, It was between the eyes or nothing.

"The head, Deyvis! The damn h—"

"I know!" Deyvis snapped back in irritation. He loaded his bow one more time and fired his second arrow. This time, shooting it in the shoulder.

Deyvis swore as he prepared himself for a third shot. At this point, the infected were coming in too close and Dora had enough of this measuring contest. She whipped out her baton, having it extend with a simple flick of the wrist and approached the reanimated. She examined as she closed in on it, seeing an older gentleman with one of eyeball slightly protruding out of a socket more than the other. His scent was putrid, revealing that he had turned for some time. Using sheer force, she punctured the baton through the side of its head and allowed it to fumble to the soil as she quickly yanked it out. Turning to nod at her party, she continued walking, hoping that they'd follow by example the next time they encountered the dead, themselves. Walking past the tree same tree that the first animated walked out of, something grabbed her by surprise,

"DORA!" she heard someone from her group shout.

Dora screamed in fright herself, fighting her arm out of whatever had its grip on her. As she looked closely, she spotted another infected, this time a much older woman. Her first two fingers contracted gangrene and one even fell off as Dora fought herself free. She groaned to herself in disgust before easily setting the infected free from this world. Carlos was beside her at this point, silently consoling her from what she just witnessed. As they all carried on, their strolling led them to one of the nearest Terminal stops on the island, and yet, there was not one ferry in sight. Vince whipped out the log just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. According to it, this is where the ferry should've last been stationed. He was becoming frustrated by the realities of how difficult this task was and it began to dawn on him that maybe he actually had it pretty easy since Port Providentia was basically handed to him. Considering that Dora had never been to Canada, the closest experience she could draw similarities to this was Ellis Island back in New York City. Which encouraged questions on whether or not people were doing the same back in the city.

Since she didn't know her way around, she wondered if there was a possibility they could keep searching,

"Where else should we look?" Dora generally asked.

"We can take a look at the history museum," Quincy suggested.

"What could be in a history museum?" Carlos questioned the hipster, "We can't take home picture frames."

Quincy rolled his eyes,

"Looks like you've got everything you need then," he said somewhat sarcastically.

Carlos, on the other hand, found nothing laughable about his remark. Whether it had the events that led to his change or just his overall gut-feeling about Quincy, he said nothing. Quincy led the way to the Toronto Island Museum. It was the latest built attraction on the Island, meant to tell the story behind the Island's creation and purpose. It was one of the largest locations on the islands and took a couple of years to build. It was just a shame that something such as this didn't get to offer its full potential, and Quincy, being Quincy, felt the same way. His eagerness to see the museum took over the initial operation of the trip and was far ahead of the group, unintentionally and benevolently leaving Dora, Meg, Deyvis, Titus, _and_ Carlos in the frigid dust. The museum was a wide, two-story structure composed of modern architecture. It roughly took on the shape of a hexagon, having three separate entrances on its three front sides. What initially was supposed to serve as large glass windows were all shattered to smithereens. Multi-colored shards were spread all over the ground and floor and ground taking on the appearance of zircon. Seeing that the doorway no longer served its purpose, they could easily slip in through the massive openings on either side of it. Rightfully so, they both remained cautious before stepping inside.

Considering how spacious the property was, Vince and Quincy walked to two different positions to peer inside from separate angles. While they probed from a safe distance, Quincy heard something strange coming from one of the counters closest to him. It was a very small radio on a vacant channel. How it still managed to work was a mystery to them, but something they underestimated given the circumstances that they were all in,

"Think we could use that?" Quincy asked.

"I don't see why not," Vince completed his momentary search with his eyes. As Quincy waited outside, Vince took his first step inside the museum.

The other half of the group that fell behind, was on their way just as Vince and Quincy were looking around. A few minutes went into their own stroll before Titus was the first to notice that they were being followed by other reanimated on the island. As fearful as he was, Titus alerted the group of dead pursuing them and eventually tore his way ahead of the group instead of proposing to fight. Dora, Meg, and Carlos were now the last three behind and were shocked to see that they were being followed by four reanimated and counting. Just like an ant trail, bystanding dead noticed the company and the quad eventually accumulated.

"Why didn't you say something sooner!?" Meg became angered.

However, Titus was too busy saving his own ass to take her on. She expected some assistance but it was apparently something up to her. She put down the group's duffle bag and reached into her sheath, revealing a push dagger. She turned to face them, now witnessing six infected in total. Being as tall as she was, Meg was able to easily overpower her first kill, having blood easily scatter itself on her left cheek after removing her blade from a clogged artery. In the split second she tightened her lips and eyes to renounce infected blood from invading her system, she was blindsided by a second monster that crept up on her shoulder. Meg shrieked before Dora followed up and punctured its head from the back. Allowing its hold to loosen, Dora quickly pulled Meg back, hoping she'd make a speedy recovery,

"You're alright!" Dora assured repeatedly.

She summoned Deyvis over to keep an eye on his shaken up comrade while she aided Carlos who was already keeping the Infected back. Needless to say, Carlos and Dora were more expertise in annihilating the dead, so it was mostly up to them after Meg remained rattled from her close call. They flawlessly took down the rest on their own Carlos taking down around two at a time with his sledgehammer. Making sure, they counted six dead bodies before taking off. Meg was still in a state of shock but there was no time for recovery. With the help of everyone, they continued by catching up with Vince and Quincy, who were both so far out of range. Both Vince and Quincy had no clue what transpired until one of them was called out to. Meg, regaining the ability to speak again, expressed that she felt very much like kicking Titus' ass, to which Carlos, Deyvis, and Dora had no objection to. Despite Titus being between the separated party, a coward was the last person they'd rely on—so they called out to Quincy just before he could follow Vince inside the museum. Titus was the first to come into his view as Titus glanced up. Titus certainly looked terrorized, but he didn't think much of it since Quincy was known for having such moods.

Hastily seeking Vince for some sort of protection or backup, Titus entered the museum without much thought. Unintentionally, his frantic footwork kicked something that took effort to trigger. Titus flew forward and face planted, safely landing on a carpeted area that barely made much sound once he made contact. Just as he landed, he heard roll-up gates slam shut over every entrance in the museum. And just like that, the museum was like a fish tank of darkness.

"SHIT!" Titus cursed to himself. Already, he was beginning to panic. He hadn't yet realized yet that his panicking only led to more panicking because being the impulsive person that he was, he would inevitably screw up somehow. On the inside, he was rightfully beating himself to a pulp, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Better himself than Titus, Vince attempted to keep himself calm and rummaged through the multiple pockets, of his recently acquired travel jacket. Suddenly, a beam of light pointed itself at Titus' dejected face. Being with Quincy just seconds ago, Vince was curious as to where Titus even crawled from. Needless to say, he was the least bit surprised that he was the one who triggered this situation. Vince pointed the flashlight at Titus' feet, seeing a thin, loose string resting on the cap of his boot,

"Tripwire," Vince calmly pointed out, only noticing the gear after the fact.

"Thanks, captain obvious," Titus aggravatingly kicked the rope away from his feet.

He rose to his feet when suddenly, they both heard Carlos shouting through to them from the other side of the cold gates. Vince walked closer to the gate and pressed his ear close to it, unable to see anything on the other side,

"You guys alright in there?" Carlos inquired.

Vince could hear the others mumble a few things,

"We're fine. Just some sort of trap to keep Infected in here, I guess."

"Are there any other traps?" Dora followed up next. Besides, Titus' shame and embarrassment, Vince confirmed that he could make out nothing that was a serious threat. Dora understood, hoping to attain a level of maturity, "Alright, keep comfy and don't move around too much. We'll try and get you out," Dora reassured.

Unbeknownst of what was occurring on the other side, all Vince could do was continue his search for anything without the help of Titus. Obviously irritated by his irrational comrade, he sauntered past him as if he weren't even there. Like an infected without the ability to do harm. The thought of being stuck in some freezing museum was enough to get Vince to think about his daughter and it was pretty obvious that he was becoming grossly agitated as each second passed. Because of that, Titus belched out an apology, but more so because he thought it was what Vince wanted to hear—not because he actually meant it. In all honesty, why would anyone apologize for trying to stay alive? Hell, if anything he felt safer in the museum than out. Running to escape from walkers was something everyone did, wasn't it?

"I should've taken your word for it and left you back at the Port," Vince said, somewhat meaning to offend him.

"Well, why didn't you? You know what happened to me out there," Titus barked back.

"I at least thought you would've grown a pair of balls since then."

Titus didn't want to argue because there were times he wanted to knock the living daylights out of Vince with a simple right hook, but the only thing stopping him was his position at the Port. His beloved community would lynch him like they were pilgrims if they ever found out he laid a hand on Vince. He observed as his pestered comrade searched for items to take for himself and anything to pry the shutters open—nothing. Eventually, they were both guided back to the roll-up gate and planned to all work together to manually lift it. On the count of three, all eight of them attempted to lift it, but it barely budged. Something was being used to hold it down.

That's when Carlos remembered something: His first time ever working at a convenience store. He was not sure if it was like this everywhere, but stores with roll-up gates usually had a chain to the sides of them that could manually lift the gates. Searching around, Carlos noticed the compartment. It was similar to a tall and thin metal casing. Hidden inside, would most likely be the chains. However, as Carlos went to open it, it was locked with padlocks. He silently cursed to himself and used words that Dora would probably pass out from. As announced before hitting the sea, guns were to only be used in an emergency. But everyone could agree that this _was_ an emergency and they were on board for using it if it meant getting Titus and Vince out of that place so they could just turn back around and go home.

"Stand back," Dora said. Being the only one in the group armed with a gun, she whipped it out of her back pocket. Never in a million years did she think that she would become comfortable using firearms but being stranded with Carlos for so long only gave her one ultimatum which was to get used to it.

She pointed it at the padlock and waited for Carlos to stand clear of the ricochet zone. Bracing herself for the impact, Dora pulled the trigger. _Click_ it went lifelessly.

Titus backed away, feeling hopeless as they proceeded to bang and rattle the gates from both sides. The more he thought about it, Titus had realized there was a huge difference between being safe and being trapped and the last thing he wanted was to die a not so noble death that he was the indirect cause of. He grabbed his own flashlight from a pocket and examined his environment. The bottom level was semi-hexagonal and on both opposite ends were staircases that curved towards the second floor. He recalled seeing windows from the outside, so he figured that there might've been one to smash and climb out of. At this point, Titus was thinking of himself as a borderline genius. How could no one think of this? Ignoring Dora's wishful words for them to stay put, he carried on to the nearest staircase without being noticed. Reaching the second platform, he encountered a pathway shut off with pine double doors. Both knobs for each door were removed, leaving large holes to have the doors properly chained shut. Apparently, this was uncommon and whenever something seemed unorthodox, it wasn't meant to be meddled with. Among many other things, this should've been a lesson with the museum, but just as mentioned before—when it came to Titus, panic just led to more disaster. Titus kneeled and attempted to peek inside as if he were a Peeping Tom but could barely get a good look at whatever was on the other side since the chains were too thick and blocky. Returning to a stand, he noticed the double doors slightly sway back and forth as if it were dancing with a breeze— _wind_ , he logically thought to himself. That, alone, meant that there could've been an opened window up there. Too little, too late, Vince eventually took notice,

"Be careful, you don't know what's behind there," he shouted. In a hectic rush to escape combined with the headaches from the gate shutters, Titus pulled out his handgun, to which Vince couldn't believe. Vince's mouth dropped, "No wait—!"

Titus stepped back a safe distance and fired his handgun at the steel chains, making them drop to the floor instantly with a harsh metal clank. Titus looked over at Vince with a smile, attempting to correlate his actions with a way out. The believable redemption in Titus' face gleamed like no other, to which Vince was convinced by. A faint smile appeared on both of their faces the moment everything went silent due to the aftermath of the gunshot. However, there was a surprise tucked away underneath the door that explained the swaying...and it wasn't a strong draft. Along with the silence, soft moans and groans were able to finally be heard. That's when a plethora of Infected flung the doors aside, knocking Titus back and causing him to tumble over the railing behind him. He screamed just as he was tossed into a tall wooden and glass cabinet. Glass shattered everywhere and the cabinet broke apart. Vince, who had only run up half-way at this point, was taken by total surprise when the wave of discombobulated corpses collided into him, pinning him down to the first floor. His head rang as a final Infected tumbled on top of him. Quickly returning to his senses, he put his flashlight to good use. With one of the dead's fangs inches away from his face, he gagged it with his flashlight and attempted to scurry away. Titus, on the other hand, was slowly regaining focus as he heard his name repeatedly being called by his buried comrade, and as he struggled to stand, he could be no more grateful that he wasn't the one amongst the bodies of the dead. He struggled to stand, wincing as his gloves were cut through by shards of glass.

Vince kicked and punched as much as he could, landing a few blows that barely did anything to the nerveless critters surrounding him. He steamrolled onto them, pushing the most threatening ones' faces into the ground and attempting to creep away from their bodies as the final few later fell down the stairs. In a dire hurry to escape, he left his flashlight lodged in the mouth of the one Infected to his left, having its rotting cranium glow from the inside out in certain spots where a majority of the bone matter was missing, seeing the visible veins as if they were wiring. And although Vince kicked more and more, it became more of a disadvantage as he grew breathless and exhausted. One of the Infected, no matter how many times it was punted in the face, was left unfazed by the dent gradually made in its forehead. Successfully grabbing the hold of Vince's leg, it biting into the Achilles tendon. Reactively, Vince let out a blood-curdling scream—so loud it could be heard among the commotion. Although it was the most common thing to happen, no one wanted to truly believe it once it happened to them. They had to either convince themselves that maybe something else happened. But shortly after that first chomp, he felt the second one of his elbow. With no time to fight back, or else he'd be devoured, he kept on trying to break free, using his other foot to knock the first Infected's teeth in. Eventually, he slipped out of the mass and barely crept away until his back rested on something that felt like a chair.

Titus, who was now standing, could barely make out a thing in the darkness. Cautiously feeling around, his foot kicked something that managed to roll away. Figuring he knew what it was, he quickly made out a flashlight as he felt around and beat it until it properly worked. After a couple of taps, the light flickered and beamed through the room. He pointed it in the direction of Vince's voice, who was in a state of shock. He was panting heavily, holding a wounded elbow and being connected to a trail of blood that dripped from his foot. Titus, at this point, was so stunned that he nearly fainted. He trembled, having difficulty holding the light still. He had not one clue how he could help Vince since a bite meant that you were already done for and that was all he thought about within those couple of seconds. Despite an Infected standing and being lured toward the light, Titus couldn't seem to snap out of it. Suddenly, the gates of the museum were beginning to lift at an average speed. Just as Titus did, the dead were attracted to the sudden noise as well, turning its attention away from Titus the last moment. Instantly, a bullet shot it in the head, causing blood to splatter diagonally on Titus' face. Seeing that he was trapped in the dark for so long, he reacted sensitively to the natural light from the outside. Suddenly, two figures in riot gear entered,

"You take care of him, I got this one," one male voice said.

"Copy," a woman's voice replied.

Speechless, Titus held up his hands as requested, leaving the other guard to enter and silence every Infected that was alive. This left the room open to one sound only: Vince's cries for help. The woman examined his body through her faceguard. As it turned out, Vince was bitten in other places too, seeing little exposure of his shinbone. But he was infected nonetheless even before acquiring that. Dora ran in once she noticed from a distance and briskly entered the museum until she was held back by the female officer,

"Step back, ma'am, we aren't finished here."

"I need to see if he's okay!"

The officer took off her headgear, revealing a pretty brunette with hair traditionally cut like a boy's,

"I understand, but I have to report this in. Please just wait."

"Report? Report to who?" Titus questioned from across the room.

They didn't answer, but Dora humored them by doing what was requested of her. She was extremely impatient, looking at Vincent with sorrow she couldn't verbalize. All she could think about is what this could mean. The officer grabbed hold of the radio clipped to her vest and spoke into it, "This is Officer Kimper—false alarm on the B&E. Just some survivors who accidentally tripped off this alarm," she looked back at the officer safekeeping Titus, being reassured of his condition, "We count one casualty."

"How serious?" an unseen person responded.

"Critical," Kimper bit her bottom lip, "They're infected."

"Do we eliminate the target?" the other officer suddenly intervened on his radio.

That nearly sent everyone into a frenzy, which caused a response of having all guns pointed at them. Although Kimper was doing what seemed like her job, she was opposed to her partner asking such a question in front of the victim's party. Knowing him, it was something he got off on—seeing people react to his authority. Even in the worst of times.

"Negative," the voice on the other end of radio replied after a long wait.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Kimper stepped aside so Dora could tend to Vince. Titus eventually came to his side to help him up as well,

"What the hell happened?" Dora inquired.

"Doesn't matter," Titus cried, "We have to help him!"

"Where's Bart?!" Dora asked out loud.

Kimper exchanged glances with her associate. Questioning if he fit a given description, the male officer described Bart to the T, and once they confirmed that he was the man they were looking for, they were told to follow them.

The group took a ten to twelve-minute walk until a small police station came into sight. Outside were two people, armed with heavy artillery and although the eight-person party was welcomed into the police station by Kimber and her ally, looks from other officers in the lobby said otherwise. However, they looked like regular civilian folk, dressed in attire to match. Carlos never felt too fond of cops seeing that he ran into trouble with them a number of times in his early teens.

The location was quite small, reaching another doorway after taking only a few steps from where they entered. They approached a door that looked like that of a typical high school principal's—wooden with granite glass that avoided anyone from getting a clear look at what was going on inside. Kimber held the door open from the outside, letting each of them inside.

Bart was sitting in a chair almost as if he were waiting for something to happen. Although he was unsure of these strangers, he just hoped that his information would have been able to save his friends in case they were in any danger—and he was completely correct. Once he saw Meg's being the first to enter, Bart stood up from his chair, proud but apologetic for not being able to return sooner. From the sidelines, a couple of other officers watched his exchange with his comrades. With Vince being the last to limp in, Bart's elation completely vanished once he saw Vince's state. He was trailing in blood from the moment he stepped into the lobby.

"What the hell happened?" Bart's eyes nearly jumped out of his head, offering Vince his seat.

"Don't worry about it!" Titus spoke up in embarrassment.

The second officer that tagged along with Kimber finally took off his helmet, revealing an extremely handsome man with curly hair. Suddenly, a young girl came into the office, taking him by surprise by tackling his legs. She called him daddy, which surprised everyone although it shouldn't have,

"Most people have a family here," he clarified.

Most surprised of all was his daughter when she saw Vince's leg. Unfortunately, it was difficult to protect your children from seeing it all was nowadays, so a little exposed flesh and bone did nothing to upset her. In fact, she kept staring at it until her mother came in after her. A young woman who very much reminded Dora of Ada. Dora glanced over at Carlos to see if he caught the same feeling, and from the looks of it—he did.

"Take her back, babe. Daddy's busy right now."

His wife stared at the newcomers,

"Is everything okay, Richie?" she questioned, obviously concerned for Vince.

However, the concern wasn't something that Richie wanted his wife nor daughter to display right now, especially considering the type of attitude he tried to give off on their initial meeting. He assured that everything was fine and practically pushed his wife out of the room. Even if these people didn't seem like a threat, he didn't want his wife or daughter getting caught in between this. Shutting himself inside with Kimper, he turned his attention back to the port residents,

"Where are you guys from?'

"I already told you, we're from Port Providentia," Bart said. Seeing that his ally was injured, was beginning to grow irritable by the constant interrogation. He felt that if they were going to ask the same questions that they might as well be free to go, "And if you haven't noticed our friend here is dying! So we would like to get back home now so we can treat him!"

"There's no saving him…" Kimper sadly confessed, "And you know that."

As bold as Brad was becoming, he reclined to being a prisoner after those words were spoken. That's when it was also revealed to each and every one of them that they weren't allowed to go anywhere until they were all questioned. And if their answers just so happened to match up, they were free to leave. This, already, didn't sit well with anyone. They didn't like feeling under arrest, especially since they felt they did nothing wrong. This morning, they left thinking this would be some field trip, but maybe this was just another rude awakening. They never thought about stumbling into other territories nor had they ever had to deal with intruders themselves. Thankfully, before everyone got sidetracked, Dora asked the question that should've been everyone's main concern,

"And what about our friend?" She asked, referring to Vince.

"We'll take care of him," Richie said, sounding pestered. He was growing annoyed by the fact that these people couldn't see that they only wanted to help them, "You should all be grateful we didn't shoot him and throw him in the water."

"RICHARD!" Kimper shouted in disgusted.

"You're not taking care of anything," Carlos finally spoke up, he was sickened by Richie's attitude from the beginning. God only knows what spat happened between them just before the museum gates were lifted, but it wasn't anything good, "He stays with us or you aren't getting shit from us."

Richie sized up Carlos and took a step forward,

"By all means, man, if you know how to bandage that up, be my guest," he teased with a smug grin.

"Please," Vince finally mustered up the strength to say. He sounded hoarse and already looked off-color, "Please, I beg of you, I have a daughter back home."

Any child was a good parent's weakness and from the looks of it, Richie was a damn good father for his little girl to run into his arms the way she did. It was a 'what would you do?' situation. And although Kimber was already open to giving them the preferred option, he just wanted Richie to stop pretending for once and feel a bit of empathy. Without giving much of an answer, Richie reached for a basin for everyone to put their weapons in for their safekeeping and everyone else's. Everyone knew he really meant so that they were less of a threat, but they complied either way. Even though the law was over with, the only thing that stopped them from rebelling was being outnumbered. They stood no chance here.

"Now that you have our weapons do you mind if we have some time alone?" Deyvis asked, more pissed at the fact that they took his bow and arrows.

"Not a chance," Richie said.

"You're keeping us here against our will, the least you can do is let us chat a bit," Carlos sided with Deyvis.

Just as Carlos did, Richie inched closer to him, ready to test if his fists had a much fight in it as his mouth did. Suddenly, a third man entered the room, someone with a notable status since it caused Richie to obey like some obedient German Shepherd.

The third man wore a stained white shirt, jeans, and an outworn cap. Believe it or not, he was the chief of police and he was a lot friendlier than Richie from the looks of it. He went by Officer Fredrick but insisted that they all call him Chandler. He personally shook every one of their hands and asked for their names and kept his composure after noticing Vince's condition. Kimber, being considerate, pulled him aside and vouched for the group and requested that they have some time alone to discuss whatever personal matters they had going on. With Richie simultaneously barking over his shoulder he succumbed to both of them. Giving the group leeway, but not much. He held up all fingers, giving them five minutes max to talk about whatever it is they wanted to discuss. At the request of Officer Chandler, everyone else exited the room. The only exception was a medic, who walked into the room and tended to Vince's wound, immediately wrapping it in bandages to stop the bleeding. Vince was growing weaker by the minute and had fully passed out in the seat. To make sure he wasn't dead, the medic continuously monitored his breathing. Eventually, he was wheeled out of the room and the rest of the group was left alone. There was only one person who could do most of the talking,

"Titus, what happened?" Dora questioned.

She stood like a mother ready to scold a child since that's what Titus was in her eyes. He, however, wasn't going to stand for that,

"What the hell do you mean what happened?"

"How did he end up getting bit?" Quincy spoke. The hippie inside of him left the building and he was already in a state of panic. The fact that it could have been _him_ in there with the both of them rattled his nerves. Whether he could've been an asset or not in that situation, he didn't care to ponder on it for too long, "There was _no_ Infected when Vince and I were looking through there. Not one in sight. Where did those come from?"

Titus looked over as Vince was getting wheeled out of the room, thankful that his unconscious friend couldn't tell them the whole truth. As somber or terrifying as this moment was, he never wanted them to know the truth.

"They snuck up on us," he said.

"Bullshit," Meg believed. She was in the back, leaning on an officer's desk, "And even if they did, why didn't you help? Maybe you left him to die like you did the rest of us, remember that?"

Titus did. If it wasn't obvious by now, the dead made him want to jump out of his skin. He couldn't stand the sight of them for various reasons. Most of all, he didn't want to face them. He couldn't, especially after knowing his wife and child were possibly out there as one of them.

"I-I did try. Didn't you hear my gun go off?" His voice, along with his palms, began shaking. He felt attacked, and the last thing he wanted was to be blamed for Vince's incoming death, "I tried shooting one of them but there were just too many of them. One of them managed to knock the gun out of my hand and when they took the first bite, I froze," he lied.

Luckily for him, they did hear the gun go off. So he was safe from the scrutiny for the time being. Obviously, things were too overwhelming at this point, and the interrogation didn't make things easier. They questioned Titus more and more, hoping he'd fold like a piece of paper. But thankfully, Dora thought it was best to give the questioning a rest seeing that enough unfortunate things were happening to them today. Soon, in just a couple of minutes, they'll be the ones interrogated.


	6. S03E06: "38"

It had been a couple of days since the troubling situation that occurred between Quest and the rest of the community. Jolyn just wanted out. The night it happened, he argued with Felix about it before Tristen could return to their quarters and overhear what they were saying. And to Jolyn's surprise, Felix agreed faster than Jolyn could propose. With how much he previously showed his love and adoration for the place and people there, he gave in like a guard dog thrown a piece of steak. What happened to Quest was the last they ever wanted to do with this group and it was against Jolyn's morals to stay silent or even side with someone as dictating as Gerrard and the Mortemists.

Today was a crisp, cool morning. Not too cold and mostly just low temperature with the addition of some chill from below-average snow from the previous days. Jolyn and Felix woke up dressed in their average attire: Old, oversized shirts and pants that had to be tightened by a drawstring in order to be embraced above the waist. They both sat on one bed and shared a massive quilt, feeling linked as though they were Siamese twins. Exiting their cabin, they walked in unison on the Haven's winter-grass field. They walked towards a clothesline that was at least two yards long and, held up by five, thin wooden columns. Since it was uniform, a lot of clothes on the lines looked identical. Each pair of pants and every shirt on the line had a clip labeled with a number.

"Morning, boys," a heavyset mortemist greeted. She was responsible for handing out the clothes on the line. Jolyn could never get her name right. As a matter of fact, he could barely get anyone's name right. The only person who bothered to remember any of their names was Felix and it was why he was far more likable and easier to have conversations with. It was obvious he made more of an effort to get to know these people, whereas Jolyn on the other hand just preferred to observe and keep to himself. Seeing that Felix had witnessed his ordeals, Felix could do nothing but vouch for him, explaining that he had "been through some stuff" before the Mortemists found us. But that was such a shitty excuse that people only swallowed up through pity. Who hadn't been through trauma? It was practically given out like community newspapers so it was a cop-out no one was ready to call out yet. Felix greeted her and the Mortemist Jolyn had yet to notice, she was working with, by name. He reached into his pocket and gave her two, numbered clothespins identical to the ones holding up his own clothes,

"And how are you doing this morning?" she continued to converse.

"A little tired. Didn't sleep well last night," Felix answered honestly.

She frowned at his claim, sharing that she experienced difficulty sleeping last night as well. Despite not saying anything else, she simply overshared, claiming that the recruitment of a new face had her excited. She spoke while she looked down at the orange painted clothespin, seeing the number '118' written in black sharpie. She passed on the clothespin to her comrade, who went on to search the clothesline that seemed like a voyage due to the thirty-something members' worth of laundry.

Jolyn reached into his pocket next, pulling out a yellow, plastic clothespin with a number he didn't care to remember written on it,

"Thirty-eight," the woman said aloud with a charismatic chuckle.

Looking around as their conversations carried on, wanting no part in it, honestly. He patiently waited until it was his turn, taking in a deep breath of the cold air as if it could freshen up his murky soul on the inside. Just as he momentarily looked over his shoulder after hearing a couple of chatters out in the distance, he saw Quest walking with a group of other younger men and women. They were carrying around pails of water that they must have collected from the uncontaminated stream nearby. Unlike the other girls, Quest lacked something. She fell far behind them and even announced that she would be taking a short break. But none of them seemed to care, seeing that they didn't even bother to give as much as a look of concern. The rest of them walked off, leaving her behind as if she were nothing but dead to them. She placed down the pail beside her and rolled up her sleeves, looking down at her right wrist. It stung and was irritated and had barely scabbed over from the punishment she received from Gerrard. She rested her other palm over it, hoping to ease the pain by applying pressure somehow. That's when she noticed Jolyn looking back at her. It was humiliating enough to be an example in front of others but she wanted to keep her head held high and never wanted to be seen hurting, so noticing Jolyn was awfully offensive to her. She rolled down her sleeves and continued walking, pretending as if her bruises were never even there. As she strolled off, she maintained eye contact as if she was hoping to achieve some kind of hocus pocus that would make Jolyn forget everything he just saw. That's when he felt his entire right arm go numb after Felix suddenly nudged at his funny bone,

"Huh?" he inquired, switching his glance from Felix to the short woman in front of them. That's when he took a sudden realization, "Oh!" he exclaimed. He held out his hand and passed her clothespin.

"Gael, Jocelyn just asked how you're doing today," Felix clarified, somewhat curious as to what had so overwhelmingly grabbed his attention beforehand.

He put effort into curving his lips upright—into an untrue smile. _Gael_. He hated that freaking name just for himself particularly. He felt like it didn't fit him the least bit. He thought he looked more like a Jonathan or maybe even a Tory. Anything that kept the 'J' would suffice than what he had now.

"I'm fine," he lied.

"You and Tristen are the ones going to get Albertson today, aren't you?"

Jolyn stared at the clothespin and her feet the whole time seeing that they hadn't moved since it was handed to her. At this point, Felix already had his garments handed to him and had his clothespin added to the woven basket that collected clothespins from previous pickups,

"Yeah," he responded simply.

"I hope you have a safe trip,"

Jolyn tightened his lips even more and attempted to bring them to his ears. It was that same smile he used to put on for annoying elders whenever they thought their two-cents were more than welcome. He saw it more of a tolerable smile than a disingenuous one and he was sure it came across that way,

"Thanks…" he tried to recall her name and realized it escaped his mind yet again, "Yeah, thanks."

At that point, she got the message and Jocelyn handed the clothespin to her associate. Once he located it, he returned and handed Jolyn a neatly folded pile of his shirts, pants, and undergarments. Thanking her, Jolyn and Felix returned to their cabin.

Back in the cabin, Jolyn was the first to change seeing that he'd be traveling with Tristen, who was out and about playing Gerrard's lapdog. Jolyn quickly threw on his thermals after stripping down to his underwear already used to Felix's presence,

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Felix asked, feeling the rich warmth as he sat on an overturned basin by the fireplace.

"If I'm sure?" Jolyn began to button up his top, "You make it sound like Gerrard gives us much of a choice to do anything here."

Felix couldn't answer. He was still having some difficulty coming to terms with possibly being a part of a cult. Why did it take them so long to realize this? Jolyn could act like he was the saving grace of this all, but deep down there were days or even weeks where his feelings about the Haven and Mortemists fluctuated. Even if there were people here who felt the same way Jolyn did now, no one was in a hurry to throw themselves back out there into the wild and it was probably why this place lasted for so long. Gerrard had the means and manpower to make it all happen.

"I just don't like the thought of you going out there with someone you don't get along with," Felix shook his head, "What if something happens to you? Tristen could just leave you for dead."

"I'll be fine," Jolyn said. But the truth is that not even he was convinced by his own words. There were times where Tristen could be trustworthy but there were other times where he felt like such a snake. It was in Felix's nature to always give people the benefit of the doubt but all he could do at this point was stand by and watch Jolyn from the sidelines. Ever since the death of his family, it was becoming harder each day to convince him to let people in. He was just thankful that Jolyn hadn't held any enmity towards him because of his genetic relations to the folks who took everything away from him. After Jolyn finished putting himself together, he did a slow and steady turn, "How do I look?"

"Like a cultist."

Jolyn chucked with a slight scoff. As weird of a compliment as that was, it was the goal after all. To blend in with the Mortemists. His final, unminced request was for Felix to keep an eye on Quest because he saw what could've been a potential ally. Jolyn waited longer than he expected. There were times where Jolyn felt the need to do something and there were times where he just wanted to stay in bed. Of course, lots of people felt that way, but for the longest time, Jolyn always wondered if it was just a product of his clinical depression. He sat on the edge of his bed, somewhat overcome by the feeling of stir-craziness. As he shook his right leg, his shoes tapped the floorboards repeatedly. That's when Felix returned to the cabin with two cups of coffee in hand, staring at his partner's leg. He froze in place before they exchanged a glance, Embarrassed by what Felix must've been thinking, Jolyn stopped and stood up,

"I'm gonna go,"

Felix walked towards Jolyn and practically shoved the cup of unsweetened coffee into his hand,

"Gonna go where? Tristen's not even here yet."

Jolyn grabbed his cup and took a simple sip, retching after forcing himself to take two gulps as if it were the strongest tequila had ever tasted,

"God, this shit is so putrid," Jolyn said, forcing himself to finish up the rest, "Really sucks when there's no milk or sugar."

After he finished, he carefully placed the mug underneath his bed and got himself together. Today was slightly chillier so he managed to put on a funnel neck sweater underneath a long jacket that reached his knees. Jolyn, who was in a hurry, approached the doorway without even a second's thought of saying goodbye to Felix. This moment, in particular, bothered Felix and he didn't know what to make of it. To be quite frank, the thought of Jolyn possibly wanting to leave without him crossed Felix's mind. Another voice tried to convince him otherwise by reminding them all that they had been through. But the reminders gave Felix more of a reason to believe that it could go either way considering their grey past. Acting as if this could be Jolyn's determinant or his very own saving grace, Felix made a muffled sound as he pulled his lips away from his mug and scrambled to the doorway in his slippers. He gave Jolyn one last show of affection, as he would routinely whenever they departed-and anyone who lived in this world could share an understanding as to why,

"Be safe out there," Felix said, holding Jolyn close, "I know you're in a hurry to get out of here but don't do anything stupid. We have to plan this," he paused, "Together.'

Jolyn nodded but didn't think too much of it. Silently, he about-faced and exited the cabin, hearing the door's rusty hinges squeak as he opened and shut it behind him.

He walked across the field and passed through the armory—a shed that resembled a garage with missing parts of the rooftop. It held your usual tools: Be it gardening rakes to hoes or machetes to semi-automatics, the shed had it. Despite it being so useful, it was barely kept clean and there always seemed to be a spider spinning a web in a corner somewhere. The host in charge would be lucky if there wasn't a day he walked into one face first.

"Morning, Gael," Jolyn was greeted as soon as he entered.

It was an older gentleman named Rafael, who was born in Spain. He usually wore a straw hat and multiple layers underneath an outworn flannel. His skin was bright pink and he wore glasses with circular lenses. He sat in an old torn up computer chair and sat with his face plastered to a magazine he'd read for three weeks before someone was decent enough to get him a new one.

He did his job but very leniently. It was his duty to grab what the Moretemists needed whenever they were headed out, but he trusted people enough to responsibly grab what they needed. Jolyn greeted him back with a nod of his head and explored the garage. The firearms were either lined up along the wall or shoved in a massive toolbox with wheels. Already armed with his very own knife, Jolyn grabbed a Super-Shorty shotgun and calmly placed it on Rafael's desk. The older gentleman then proceeded to look through the unorganized draws of his desk, carefully looking for the appropriate bullets. For the first few minutes, all that rang in their ears were the noisy shells and bullets rolling around and bouncing off one another until Rafael finally found the right ones. Partially opening the box, he placed it on the table, revealing only five shells left. He took note, writing down the gun type, the number of bullets taken and had Gael sign his first and last initial. The Mortemists had an unrealistic rule about their guns and their ammunition, and there was a reason the amount of ammunition was still booming. It didn't take long for anyone who knew the Mortemists to see that they were essentially being pacifists to the dead—or as they liked to say, "the Fallen". But there were some cases where the ammunition did the job at marking themselves as a reality check. Of course, these people weren't stupid enough to believe that a reanimated wouldn't try to harm you because they were humanized or given mercy. But shooting the dead was something that should always be a last resort. If you were sent out with five bullets, you were expected to come back with _five bullets_. If not, you had some questions to answer, and whoever was paired with you, had to either vouch or say otherwise,

Jolyn grabbed himself a plain old muffin and scarfed it down on his way to the meetup spot. He walked through the small cemetery that had Apollo's corpse added among them. The gate that led through to the front yard of the church was normally chained and locked, but from afar, Jolyn could see that it was opened. As he approached the gate, Tristen and another man came into his sight. Cutting their conversation short, Tristen approached Jolyn the first chance he got,

"What the hell took you so long?"

"I was waiting for you at the cabin," Jolyn defended, making a bothered face.

"Can't you wake and get yourself ready? I'm not your mother," Jolyn remained quiet. It was too early for the noise he called Tristen's voice. When he realized that Jolyn wasn't going to entertain him, he rightfully changed his tune. He beckoned the young man he was accompanied with over, "Anyway there's been a slight change of plans. Rudy is gonna be accompanying you."

"Why?" Jolyn questioned, hoping not to offend the stranger.

"Because," Tristen briefly paused, "I'm needed here. So, it's up to you and Rudy to bring back Albertson. Okay? I've seen you work and you seem capable enough," he half-assed complimented.

Tristen pressed a crumpled up piece of paper to his chest and walked off without exchanging words any further. He opened the tall fence that led to through the graveyard and securely locked it with chains and a padlock. Jolyn certainly didn't get along with the fella but if there was anyone he needed more to be on this mission, it was definitely Tristen. He had only ventured on foot to Albertson's house _twice_. Tristen had probably been there more than five. He looked over at Rudy and examined him. Rudy was a fairly young man with dark brown hair, he stood fairly tall and had a fairly athletic build. He didn't look exactly friendly upon first glance but the opening of his mouth proved otherwise. He was the first to break the ice and properly introduced himself. Jolyn, usually to avoid being thrown off, showed himself as the introvert he always was. And despite that, Rudy still made an effort to not make their interactions so awkward. However, if it weren't for his kindness, their voyage wouldn't have commenced.

* * *

Felix got himself together as well and headed to the chapel, where everyone had already gathered for their breakfast. A good amount of people had already gotten their breakfast and they either ate it out in the fields, in their cabins or here in the very chapel. It had been chicken soup for the past week or so and as much as Felix wanted something new, he couldn't complain. The chapel had two doorways. One led to the very front, which was locked and barricaded with a massive block of wood that took about four people to remove and roughly three to install. The second entrance was the back door that shimmied through a small path on the far left of the chapel—that was the main path that the Mortemists usually looked to as their entrance and exit to the chapel.

Looking to the far right, Felix walked towards the table that held up a huge pot of reheated soup. He waited on the line beside two others who were seemingly getting seconds. As per usual, he was greeted by his alias. Much to their relief, the server pointed out that from the looks of their attendance, Felix was the final person to be served that morning. What remained in the pot wasn't much, but just enough was scraped and scooped to give Felix a bowl of broth, carrots and other greens. Looking around the chapel, he realized that almost every seat was either taken or occupied. Sure, it would normally sit all of them during service, but it wasn't service at this time. Therefore, people took up extra space as if it were their very own homes. There were some who comfortably sat on the floor beside their friends but it was just one of those days where Felix wasn't in a mood to subjugate himself to that. So, he exited from whence he came. As he strolled a couple of feet out, something caught his eye, causing him to glance over his shoulder. He saw Quest sitting alone on a short log bench with enough room for two people. Remembering what Jolyn said, Felix stopped in place and thought long and hard before she could notice him. Turning around, he walked back towards her. Jolyn frequently expressed how he thought Quest was quite pretty. And if you looked long enough, you could certainly see it. She had dark skin, a heart-shaped face, and usually wore her hair in a natural afro with a part. For this day, in particular, she had it held back with some hair clips. She was well-spoken, talked very politely and did a constant pouty-thing with her upper-lip, which oddly gave her most of the appeal. Clearly, she was avoiding eye contact for whatever reason. Since she had been shunned by almost everyone for the past couple of days, having someone approach her felt almost like an anomaly on both ends,

"Mind if I sit?" Felix requested. Without saying a word, she removed the items that were placed neatly beside her—notebooks and such. However, as soon as Felix sat down, she stood up. He was surprised, not meaning to scare her away, "Y-you're leaving?" Felix questioned.

"Don't want to take up any space," she replied. As she struggled to hold most of her items. Instantly, her books fell and the cold breezes blew some of her loose pages out, "No!" she cried.

Felix placed his bowl down and quickly leaped to her aid. He managed to get some sheets of paper, but there were about two that were carried away as if they were feathers plucked from a bird. He took a good glance at it, seeing that Quest was clearly a poet. He was impressed, which made her shrug it off as if it was no big deal. Quest feared dropping her bowl, so Felix carefully returned the folded pages back inside of her notebook and handed it to her in a manner that wouldn't cause her any more issues. Reaching for it, she unintentionally revealed her wrist what was left of the scabbing bruises. She cautiously hid them with her sleeves as she quickly retracted, nearly dropping her book a second time. Overall, she thanked him.

"How...how is that?" Felix questioned, referring to her wrist. Although he was there the night it happened and could have stepped in, he wanted to let her know that he cared. He was new to this community, so these rules were very upsetting and new to him. However, upon his inquiry, Quest looked like she struggled to speak and that's when Felix realized he overstepped. Playing it off, he shook his head and eagerly hoped that changing the subject would do both of them the favor of getting to know each other and, most importantly, show that he sympathized, "Uh, sorry about that. Look, I...could really use the company right now. My buddy Gael went on some recruitment without me and left me to rot here..." Looking around, hoping this wasn't some test or practical joke, she nodded and walked with him back to the log. It was awkward at first but Quest appreciated the effort. Felix stirred as he stared into his tenuous soup,

"Looks like I'll just have broth for breakfast. It'll be like getting ready for a colonoscopy."

"Colonoscopy?" Quest questioned, purely confused and a little disgusted.

"My granddad used to get 'em. You're usually allowed to only take liquids. That includes soup broth."

That time around, Felix felt like he saw her face crack a smile—an effortless but appreciated smirk. Quest eyed her bowl and carefully put her bowl beside his. Using her spoon, she scooped out an untouched half of a potato and chicken wing. Flex looked back at her and grinned happily,

"Thank you."

She nodded,

"You're sort of new, right?" She seemed to say more, "What's your name?"

"Fe..." Felix nearly slipped up. He wiped his mouth as a false coverup for his momentary lapse, "...Huxley."

Unsure whether he knew her name or not, she introduced herself either way.

"I'm sure you know, but I'm Quest."

* * *

The map obscured Jolyn and Rudy's vision just before Jolyn placed it down. The house looked familiar but all of the houses in this part of Limington looked exactly the same. Even after America had collapsed into nothing, every sad excuse of what used to be a property proudly waved this country's flag. It was safe to assume that Jolyn wasn't a patriotic person, so seeing people's houses with the American flag, always put him on edge. Being raised around an immigrant mother and an activist of a sister just caused him to have some doubts about his home country. And even if it's prime was in the past, he was very much convinced that the current state of the world had to be the very doing of the United States. They always cut off their noses to spite their faces, and now, there were no noses left.

Jolyn and Rudy scavenged out of what Jolyn thought would serve them as a shortcut to Albertson's house. Despite the difficulty of being able to tell the houses apart, Jolyn remembered the broken step on Albertson's porch. Hopelessly, he crossed the road, noticing a couple of reanimated in the distance,

"Fallen," Rudy announced..

Jolyn heeded his warnings and carefully sneaked towards the porch of the house he identified as Albertson's. Just as he had hoped, it was still damaged from his visit to the residence. Carefully, they both climbed the steps and knocked on Albertson's door at a volume that wouldn't notify any other Fallen. Thankfully, it didn't take long this time for Albertson to open his door and welcome the guests inside. Hesitant due to the smell, Jolyn gave Rudy a regretful look that apologized for not alerting him of the scents beforehand. Once inside, Jolyn stood by the window meanwhile Rudy stood in isolation, not wanting to lay a hand on anything. His face was beet red, possibly from intervals of holding his breath. When Albertson returned to the main room, he rolled in with his belongings compact and ready in a suitcase. Jolyn, who kept a lookout through the windows, took a double-take at Albertson. He was a timid old man but he reminded Jolyn of that character who was solely around for comedic relief. Jolyn often found it difficult to make demands to skittish strangers but even Rudy looked at Albertson as if he were a joke,

"You won't need a suitcase where we're going, Mr. Albertson," Rude said before taking a deep breath.

"But all of my favorite books. My certificates and my family albums..." he pouted.

Jolyn swallowed,

"We understand that Mr. Albertson but…" he traded looks with Ruby, "...luggage can really slow us down out there. If we run into trouble out there, we're gonna have to be able to move fast. Isn't it better you leave it in a place you know where it is?" It was a tad manipulative, but Jolyn thought of the best way to make him consider the worst-case scenario, "You wouldn't want to lose all that stuff out there would you?"

Although it was a tough pill to swallow, Albertson understood and he went back to get something far more appropriate for their trek back to the Haven. As soon as Jolyn announced that the nearby fallen were out of range, Rudy took this as his opportunity to get some fresh air. No matter how cold it was, Rudy would rather freeze than have his nose be permanently damaged by the funk that paid rent in Albertson's household.

Sooner or later, Jolyn exited the house with Albertson following. Just anyone, who was afraid to let go, he took his house keys with him and tossed it into his pocket as if he were going out for a stroll to the supermarket. Along his shoulders was his daughter's duffle-bag she would take to gym class in high school. He did himself the favor of only taking a couple of photographs, two or three books and clothes. But he lacked the most important thing: Something to defend himself with. According to Albertson, any weapon he ever owned ended up jabbed inside a walking corpse somewhere and that it was probably slugging themselves halfway across Maine by now. It was between Jolyn's own knife or the Haven's shotgun. With a man who shook and shivered as much as Mr. Albertson, he was better off with a knife. Jolyn removed the knife from the holster case wrapped around his ankle and offered it to Mr. Albertson,

"Hold on to this. And please, don't lose it. That's very important to me"

Mr. Albertson grabbed the knife with an obvious sense of being unacquainted, dropping it as soon as it was handed to him. He rushed to pick it back up, getting pestered looks from both Mortemists after secretly having exchanged looks of pity.

This was it. They finally brought in their one recruit that they, somewhat, coerced into "converting". Although Jolyn wasn't in on the whole mission due to being one of the lastest members, he had an even more direct hand in it now. Both he and Felix were aware of Gerrard's preference to constantly pester Albertson and to prey unto his loneliness, his deprivations, and his fears in order to make him join them, but they didn't think much of it at first. The only time Jolyn was beginning to realize it was when it came to himself, which was somewhat selfish—but it was easier for people to understand their own treatment as opposed to others. Jolyn and Felix were cold, lost, and hungry when they were found by Gerrard. All it took was the mention of food, friends, and a warm bed to sleep in for them to be absolutely sold. It was the same for Albertson, and all it really took was being under a microscope for people to understand that. However, in due time, Jolyn was given that microscope.

As a trade-off to avoid babysitting their newcomer, Rudy led the way back, claiming that he remembered it vividly. Jolyn looked around as they entered a forest not too far off from Albertson's home. Jolyn remembered this forest: It was cold, stripped of any vibrancy, and there were heaps of dead, crumpling leaves surrounded at the base of the trees. Almost too much to be natural. From what Jolyn could gather, Rudy's social ability made up for his lack of patience because he was in such a hurry to get back to the Haven and practically outran the ones behind him. Although Jolyn knew the way back, it was reckless to be out here on your own, especially with a man who severely sheltered himself. The former New Yorker's eyes scanned the area, looking up at the thin and undressed branches of the trembling trees. He paused and focused on what appeared to be lacerated parts to a rope, it's fibers spread out at the end. Mr. Albertson halted behind Jolyn and mistook the young man's evaluation for stargazing. Jolyn's vision trailed through the rest of the trees, seeing a pattern of cut ropes and cloth. Instead of lingering on the possibility of what they could mean, Jolyn thought it would be best to play it safe. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called out to Rudy, who was already a great distance out. The moment Rudy turned to look at them, he instantly became white-lipped. He lifted his finger and pointed,

"LOOK OUT!" he shouted.

Jolyn looked over to see the nearest cumulation of heavy leaves fall over due to slow movement coming from the inside. Almost as if it were emerging from a split from hell, a Fallen's thin arm grabbed Jolyn's foot. Jolyn kicked it away and shuffled backward, falling back into a tree. Mr. Albertson, in this case, became extremely apprehensive,

"Albertson!" Jolyn shouted his name. The older gentleman was easily swayed by Jolyn's words and inched away just in time as the Fallen struggled to use its frozen bones to stand erect. Albertson looked around the forest, seeing other corpses emerge from other similar heaps of brown-tinged leaves, "Oh my god."

Suddenly they heard a low shriek. With both of them looking up, Jolyn felt overwhelmingly numb after seeing Rudy get grabbed by what appeared to be dead. Alas, through an attempt to make it back to Jolyn and Albertson, Rudy was caught between two tree trunks. Compromised by irresolution, Jolyn could feel his toes move but not his feet. Albertson quickly handed Jolyn back his knife, shouting "save him!" over and over again. Jolyn may have pretended to be smarter and bolder than the rest but, in the face of adversity, it made him realize that _pretending_ was all he was really good at. Jolyn looked around and calculated whichever path was safest to take. Albeit, not the best idea, but he shouted for Rudy to hold on, hoping to give some type of assurance that he would save him.

Rudy stunned the Fallen by striking it twice with a kick. Just as he turned to flee, Rudy was surprised by what appeared to be a more recently turned Fallen. Taken by surprise, Rudy lost his footing and fell backward just as the dead fell on top of him. Attempting to keep the monster at a safe distance, the dead got a lucky hold of him and sank its yellowing teeth into his face. Rudy let out a terrifying shout as he felt his face being torn apart. A split second into his attack and the dead stopped moving. Rudy opened his eyes and could see the body being shoved off of him. He winced as the fangs were carelessly pried from his flesh, blood oozing over his face as the dead's was removed. Touching the fleshy wound on his face, he looked at his fingers, spotting bright red blood. He tried to come up with some rational answer to make himself feel better. Maybe he knocked his face on a jagged rock when he fell? But all it took was for him to look over and see the exanimate creature laying two feet away from him. It was almost as if he was being provoked by something that now claimed his soul in spite of lacking one itself. Rudy remained in place and closed his eyes as his vision began to blur from the tears that flooded his optics. When he opened them once again, he saw Gael and Albertson remorsefully standing over him. As Albertson shivered and trembled, Gael extended a hand,

"C'mon," Jolyn said. But Rudy was ready to give up like all the others before him. He knew exactly what this meant and there was no way of escaping it. Jolyn furrowed his brows, "Come on, Rudy..."

Jolyn reached forward and forcibly lifted Rudy to his feet. Somewhat feeling coaxed to get moving, Rudy ran with Jolyn as Albertson followed them through the eerie forest, being stalked by other Fallen that planned to pursue them from afar.

* * *

Felix was with a recently formed party of five, each given a bucket. As much as he could respect people for putting their all into wanting to make the Haven a community of never-ending functionality, he couldn't help but feel reminded of the times he worked non-stop on the farm with his brothers. Some days, he just wanted a break and this was one of them. But being a part of this group, Felix didn't want to feel useless or come across as a leeching parasite, so whenever he was asked for a favor, he always said yes—and it was probably why he was _always_ referred.

Unfortunately, since the community's growth, the barrels that were used to collect rainfall weren't holding up like it used to and the shallow amounts of water was frozen solid due to the cold. Now, it wasn't always up Gerrard or the committee to call the shots. Other members could go by their own instincts and offer up a proposal and if enough people were on board, they just needed to bring it to their superiors for permission. Just as the party was on their way to begin their trek, they heard shouts coming from the far end of the plain just by the chapel. The shouts, which Felix recognized, caused him to instantly drop his bucket and beam across the field without hesitation. While one of the other women ran to fetch one of the committee members, Felix made his way through the skinny path of the cemetery and saw Jolyn, successfully accompanied by Albertson. However, hanging from his shoulder was Rudy, a guy he had seen around but didn't know personally. Even more shocked by the unmistaken bite on his face, he turned around to call for some help. Showing up just in time, Tristen put his speed to good use and arrived with the keys in no time, unlocking the gate. He assisted in carrying Rudy inside of the Haven while Felix locked up the gates behind them.

She knew it might have felt profane, but although it wasn't verbally deemed forbidden, Quest was exploring Apollo's old Cabin as if it were a reclusive tomb. Using the little light that shined in through the curtains, she browsed through the overhead bookshelves, reading the titles of his passed-down collection of guides on candle-making. Just as she picked up a book to flip through it she found an old photograph of what appeared to be Apollo, an extremely beautiful woman with a ruby red dress on, and a young man she presumed was Apollo's son—looking extremely dapper like his father. She chuckled softly to herself, sincerely hoping that Apollo would be with his loved ones despite her disbelief in the afterlife. Taking her by surprise, there was a sudden, loud bang on the cabin door almost as if a wrecking ball failed at knocking it through. Startled, she dropped the photograph,

"Why the hell is it locked?!" she could hear Tristen grumble from the outside.

"Shit," Quest groaned. Diligently, she returned Apollo's belongings to where they once rested and quickly ran to the door as the knocking persisted on and on again. Evidently, they were aware that someone was inside. In terms of her ridicule, this would probably be the final straw and she feared further punishment. However, as soon as the door swung open, she was shocked to see Rudy's limp body being held up by only his arms as his feet were dragged along the floorboards. Before she could enquire what happened, she demanded that they deliver him to the bed. As they coasted past her, she looked outside, seeing multiple faces of the people who she formerly called friends. Meanwhile, Tristen ran off to seek the rest of the committee, Quest wasted no time in shutting the door to obscure the brown, green, and blue orbs peering inside. Briefly, she and Jolyn looked at one another, at a loss for words for different reasons. Jolyn knew her as the girl he watched get assaulted. She knew Jolyn as Gael—the guy who did nothing just as everyone else did,

"Can you help him?" Jolyn hurried, "Please?"

Quest approached an old drawer that was given to Apollo as a gift from a dumpster dive—something no one probably ever expected to be proud of. She opened it and located the very same first aid kit she used when watching over Apollo. Quest was raised in a family of doctors. Her mother was a dentist and her father was a gynecologist with parents as doctors as well. Although she never had the chance to tell them, she wanted to break the physician line. Looking after the ill was somewhat of a skillset she never thought would benefit her until it came to looking after her grandparents, mother, and father. But even with them gone, it was a practice that was beginning to feel like destiny.

She requested Jolyn open up the windows for some light. For hard to see places, like his eyes and back of his throat, she used a tiny flashlight, examining his face and rested the back of her hand on his feverish forehead. Despite his shivers, his forehead was bubbling,

"It's affecting him quickly. Quicker than it did—" she looked over at Jolyn and paused. She returned her gaze to Rudy's left cheek, "Quicker than anyone I've looked after. Was he bit anywhere else?"

After Jolyn shook his head no, she requested that Jolyn go fetch some antiseptics and pain killers from nearby cabins. Despite barely knowing the guy, Jolyn didn't want to leave his side. But after having immobilized the way he did back in the frozen woodlands, it was the least he could do.

* * *

It was interesting how just hours ago, Quest wasn't desired until Rudy came along. She wasn't complaining but something about it felt self-righteous. She did her job at patching up Rudy's face with gauze and ran to his aid if he did as much as sniffle. Watching over him like a hawk, she lit the fireplace to keep both of them warm as the nights grew even more frigid. In any case, taking care of someone before they turned was about making sure their last moments weren't insufferable. Even though this was an inescapable passage of death, it didn't mean that the experience shouldn't be made any less depressing than it already was. Overall, she was terrified to be put in this position yet again. She wanted to avoid recalling the darkest memory of the past week but the more she stared at Rudy's deteriorating state, she just couldn't help herself from thinking about the possibilities of him turning on her. Suddenly, she heard the sound of some snaps and crunches coming from the outside. As Quest looked over, she noticed the top of three heads vanish momentarily before slowly floating back up—two nosey blondes and an inquisitive curly brunette. Quickly walking over, she shut the curtains for the sake of privacy and respect.

After a palpable moment of despair, there was a knock on the door moments later. Prepared to shun snoopy Mortemists off the property like an old man, she opened and was surprised to see the boy she knew as Gael, Huxley's friend, and an older man she had never laid eyes on before.

Jolyn greeted and glanced over Quest's shoulder, seeing Rudy's body tremble irregularly, Quest knew of Gael's position as a witness and decided that it would be more than suitable to grant him and the stranger entrance. They all watched over his body in silence, including Mr. Albertson. All he was ever familiar with was the before and after. And although Rudy was technically still alive, this wasn't the before. He was currently in the battle between life and death, between the before and after where after death would ultimately win. Seeing Rudy's body, partially illuminated by the nearby fireplace, sent chills down Albertson's spine as if he were in the very scenery of a horror picture. Jolyn stood at the foot of the bed, and shook his head,

"This is my fault. I should've reacted quick enough."

Albertson looked over at him,

"If this is your fault, then I'm just as guilty," Albertson said, hoping to alleviate Jolyn's shame.

"I'm sorry," Quest interjected. She studied the older man in the room with her, "Who are you?"

"Oh!" Albertson fidgeted. Even though he was already welcomed into the group, he still wasn't at ease given the circumstance. He inched over to Quest by leaning inward and offered a handshake, "I'm Lennard Albertson," he properly introduced. Quest shook his hand and could feel it fight through the trembling. However, she appreciated the bravery he tried to maintain. So this was the man who was the talk of the town? He was shorter than her and older than the average member of the community. With the way Albertson was constantly rumored about, she expected someone completely different. However, she wasn't judging. If anything, she understood him and felt bad that he was convinced to join such a foul place. She took her other hand and rested her palm on top of his rattling hands. He gave a nervous chuckle, "I'm still a little...shaken up. That's all."

Quest gave a sympathetic smile, causing Albertson to remove his glasses and quickly wipe his watering eyes.

Observing them close at the bedside, a hand jumped up and latched onto Jolyn's wrist. Everyone else in the room jumped from the sudden sound of Jolyn's yelp. Able to easily recoil from Rudy's feeble grip, Jolyn nearly backed through the wall out of fear that Rudy had turned. Grabbing the lantern near her, Quest bravely brought it closely to Rudy's face, informing the others that he was far from fine but had yet to turn. His eyes were filled with an unspeakable exasperation as if he were more troubled by something else rather than his imminent death. Everyone gazed at him, completely speechless as his eyes watered with rage-filled tears,

"Kill me," he begged, his voice shaking.

Quest glanced away in disgust. Even if Rudy's unfortunate lifespan might have made him think a little more inconsiderably, it was the last request Quest wanted to hear. Thankfully, he understood that, which is why his gaze was set on Jolyn,

"Gael," he wheezed, "I can't turn."

Jolyn's nose flared. He couldn't deal with having such a responsibility put on him, which wouldn't ultimately morph into guilt. He just couldn't. Instead, he froze. He opened his mouth, having nothing more than a breath come out before shutting it again. Finally, he found the right words to say,

"Rudy, you know what happens if we do that..."

Rudy's face tensed almost as if he was in excruciating pain but instead he was just holding back tears. He threw his head back onto his pillow and began to cough violently. Quest ran and got a foot basin and pushed through Jolyn, anticipating the blood mixed vomit that Rudy expelled. She rubbed his back as he remained bent over, spewing for a minute straight. She stroked his back, somewhat assisting him to sit and lean over. It was gruesome to see someone go through something like this up close and personal. As Mr. Albertson watched Rudy lose an inch of his life every second, he couldn't bear to watch anymore,

"I-I can't do this," Albertson stammered. He walked towards Rudy's bedside and rested his palm on his shoulder, "I wish there was something I could do. I'm very, very sorry."

"Please, you can just put me to rest," Rudy whined.

"I-I can't..." Albertson shook his head in genuine sorrow.

"I got bit because we were trying to save you!" Rudy spat, "The least you could do is put me out of my misery!"

Mr. Albertson momentarily paused with his eyes shut. That was the last thing anyone wanted to hear—it crossed his mind before that maybe if he were more of a fighter, this would've never happened in the first place. But the fact that Rudy brought it up somewhat verified his suspicions that he wasn't the only one thinking it. And now it was out in the air for Quest and Gael to run with. With a final somewhat resented apology, Albertson left Rudy's bedside and exited the cabin.

That's when the time, Gerrard decided to visit Rudy's cabin, finally arrived. The first person met at the cabin was Albertson, sitting on the porch with not a clue in the world on where to turn in for a good night's rest or place to think. However, considering all that's happened, he wasn't even sure if sleeping was an option. He moped in silence before being approached by a stocky looking gentleman who stood a lot taller than he did. Gerrard offered a handshake as he approached Albertson. Thinking it was the courteous thing to do, Albertson fought his exhaustion and stood up to accept the handshake as a show of respect. He knew this was honcho and he didn't want to give a bad impression. They introduced themselves to one another despite already know each other's names, but before they could get any more acquainted, Albertson felt the need to get something off of his chest,

"I apologize for the abrupt subject change," he casually segued, "I'm not sure if you're aware or not, but one of your associates was bitten today. They're in that cabin."

"Oh, you mean Rudy?" Gerrard asked, receiving a confirming nod from Albertson. He playfully slapped Albertson's shoulder, "Yeah, I know. Wait here. I'll take care of this and I'll be back to show you where to sleep in for the night."

Albertson watched Gerrard walk off as if he were a store manager on his way to deal with customer service—there just wasn't any sign of the type sympathy he expected. Which was deeply concerning, even if it were someone who was used to it by now. Albertson watched Gerrard make his way up the stairs of the cabin and knock before entering. He pushed open the door and requested that he be left alone with Rudy. That was Quest and Gael's cue to go back to their cabins and sleep in for the night,

"You're still waiting out here?" Quest inquired as she and Gael strolled past Albertson.

Albertson couldn't seem to get his eyes off the cabin door, so his response to Quest's question was quite delayed,

"Huh?" he finally glanced over at her, "Oh, yes. I'm waiting for Gerrard. Hopefully, I'll have a place to sleep shortly."

"Alright…" Gael nodded, "Don't think too much about what happened today okay? Just try and get some rest…"

Albertson watched as the two young adults walked off in separate directions to get to wherever it was they needed to go. He got such a strange vibe from both of them despite their unconventional bonding time together in the cabin. To him, everything felt so routine. And even if people were far more desensitized to death during a time like this, he expected far more different reactions from people who were supposed to be part of the community. Looking back at the cabin, Albertson noticed that the entryway was left ajar. His eyes carefully scanned the perimeter, seeing only a few people too far out in the distance to be of any significance. He briefly readjusted himself and faced the cabin. Carefully, resting his backpack down, Albertson made his way up the stairs, pausing even after the softest creak was made. Once he finally reached the door, Albertson pressed himself up against the wall right alongside it and listened in. If angled at the right position, Albertson could get a glimpse at Gerrard's silhouette towering above Rudy's bed, having the room's fireplace and lantern bounce off his thick spectacles.

As unpleasant as his dying breath was, Rudy managed to move his lips despite the blood that was hardened and dried around it. He mumbled through hoarse breaths and could barely move as much as a finger, growing weaker by the minute,

"Gerrard…" his voice wheezed, "Please…"

Gerrard carefully kneeled by the bedside and got uncomfortably close to Rudy despite the stench that his dying breath gave off through his parted lips. He softly rested a hand on Rudy's head and looked into his eyes almost as one would a priest preparing one of his followers for prayer,

"Rudy. I know it's unpleasant but you know what comes after this," he watched, almost in silent ecstasy as tears formed in Rudy's eyes,

"Have...to kill...me…" he struggled to push each word out of his struggling lungs.

"Oh, but we will," Gerrard closed in, "But only after the ritual..." he whispered eerily into his ear, "You've participated in it before, so it's only fair that we grant you the same favor," he said. More fight was being put into Rudy's breathing than into any other part of his body and it didn't take a genius to tell. Gerrard stood up and walked around the bedroom, rummaging through the drawers that withheld Apollo's old belongings, "And to make this easier on the both of us…" he began to pull and tear apart fabric until they were long and thin. He approached Rudy, lifting Rudy's arm without facing any resistance from his faltering acolyte. Ignoring the weak whines that hummed from Rudy's lips, Garret tied his wrists to the bedposts, "Soon, you'll be welcomed to the afterlife," he caressed Rudy's face and walked off towards the exit as Rudy's eyes followed him.

Albertson, who was silently shaking on the other side of the door was getting a good glimpse of everything that was occurring. There were times where he thought he would be spotted but he had the outside darkness to thank for the stealth. Once Gerrard was done with his odd confrontation, Albertson instantly made an about-face to return to the position Gerrard last left him. Going about as fast as his older age could take him, he attempted to maintain his heavy breaths to avoid looking suspicious. He heard the door open and shut behind him and heavy footsteps soon occured afterward. Albertson stood in place quite stiffly, afraid to even turn and look into the face of a man he now personally saw as something other than human. If he looked into the face of Gerrard, Albertson would obviously give his actions away,

"How is he?" Albertson questioned, only moving his head ever so slightly without facing Gerrard directly.

"Everything's taken care of. No worries," Gerrard vaguely answered. This, however, made Albertson wonder if he would've given such an answer had he not been a freshman in their community. Gerrard happily asked. He walked into Albertson's field of vision, maintaining an equilibrium that only a cold-blooded killer could have after doing what he just did.

"Ready to see where you'll be sleeping tonight?"

Albertson faked a smile and nodded, nervously tightening his sweaty fists in his pockets.

Gerrard took the lead and beckoned Albertson to follow. He looked back at Rudy's cabin one last time, becoming haunted by the interior that slowly dimmed due to the dying flames on the inside.


	7. S03E07: "Velma"

It didn't take long for them to notice that Emberly had snuck out yet again but, this time around, two days passed since she was last seen and Ada was feeling at her lowest. Emberly would be gone for seven, maybe nine, hours at most. But two days? Something was obviously wrong with this picture and they were just too afraid to think about the unimaginable. Ada couldn't bear having to lose another family member and whenever she was alone, she would bawl her eyes out before facing anyone in the Underworld, including that of her own allies. Olimpia was just as concerned as Ada, if not more dedicated to beginning their search for her. Ada would've been too, if only they had the slightest clue on where to start looking. Feeling desperate yet again, she walked to where Noel usually camped with his confidant, Taps. It was currently the early hours of the afternoon, so he shouldn't have been too hard to find—but it was quite the contrary. Noel was nowhere to be seen and neither was his sales partner for any knowledge on his whereabouts. Ada felt herself fall to a newly found level of misery. With sleep already being so rare, she barely got any. At this point, she was back in her claimed part of the train cart, tossing around her belongings out of pure rage. People watched her from both outside and inside the cart, but it was the least of her cares at the moment.

"I told her!" Ada held back tears, "I told her this is why I didn't want her sneaking out!" Her bottom lip began trembling.

"It's okay, we'll find her," Olimpia attempted to console her, "We've done it many times before. I'm sure she's fine."

"You don't really believe that do you?" Ada asked.

The only thing worse than being worried about a loved one was being in denial about them. Therefore, Olimpia didn't answer. She knew that something was wrong about this. Emberly may have been a bit rebellious but it was clarified to never be anything personal against Olimpia or Ada. It was just her way of blowing off steam and escaping this harsh reality. Their living conditions weren't great, but she always returned for a sleeping bag to sleep in, some food to eat, and warmth from a barrel fire. There was _nothing_ for her out there and she knew that.

When given enough time, Ada cooled off and decided she was ready to begin their quest for the troubled youth. They hoped that traveling by day would make things easier, however, before they could both push past the turnstiles and fare gates, someone tugged on Olimpia's leather jacket. Seeing that they were in the section occupied by pushers, she assumed that it was someone attempting to make another inappropriate move at her and her "lady friend" yet again. Turning with the intention to shove, she was surprised to saw a young boy standing below,

"Hi…" he said with a raspy voice.

"Hi," Olimpia responded. She looked around, thinking someone was responsible for this child, "Can I help you?"

"You know Emberly, right?"

Olimpia immediately got goosebumps and safely guided the young child to the side to avoid getting bumped by the incoming and outgoing traffic of people. She remembered him from somewhere but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Seeing so many faces, you were bound to forget their origins. In this case, it was Newton, the same boy who Emberly gave the new shoes to—the very shoes would pridefully run to catch up to Olimpia.

"Yes, I know her," she paused, "As a matter of fact, we're looking for her right now. Do you know where she went."

Newton didn't like the sound of that,

"Is she okay?" he bit his bottom lip.

"I hope so…" Olimpia glanced away, "Why? What was it you wanted to tell me."

Newton went on about how he actually grew to like Emberly and, for the past couple of days, had really been hoping to see her again. Hearing that she wasn't around, really saddened him. He recalled her dropping something the last time he saw her and reached into the pocket of his thin jacket, pulling out a small box of matches. Olimpia's eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. She certainly recognized it and she knew Ada would too. Seeing that she was unrelenting at the moment, Ada was far out of range and nowhere in sight beyond the fare gates and groups of people. Olimpia requested if she could keep the matches and, without any objection, Newton handed it to her. She thanked him by shaking his hand and promised they would return with her before leaving. Being a bit too considerate for her own good, she allowed a number of individuals to enter the gates before exiting. As she made her way through the main path, that connected to multiple others that led the surface, she looked at the vendors that were usually set up and noticed something rather unusual—there was a new set. She continuously walked until she finally made it to the surface, shoving past others who were admitted entrance by the guards on the outside. She searched around for her anxious companion. Looking over, she spotted the wavy-haired brunette kicking through some overturned trash,

"Nothing valuable here," Ada said, fully aware of the familiar footsteps closing in behind her.

"Look what I've got."

As the pseudo-dumpster diver stood erect, she was presented with the prized box of matches and the auspicious story that came with it. Ada was interested to hear more from this random child who shared the information with Olimpia but figured it would be a waste of time at the moment. So, she suggested doing it later whenever they got the chance. Now that Ada had her hand on a rather small item, it led to a very big clue. To Emberly, matches meant lighting a flame, and a flame could only mean one thing: Fireworks. Ada practically yanked Olimpia by the wrist and dragged her to the last place she stepped in when she was with Emberly and Noel a few nights before. Within a couple of minutes, Olimpia was on a street she had never been before.

"That's it," Ada said, standing across the street from the notable deli.

It was equivalent to the US version of a bodega: A tiny grocery store that held things such as junk food and household necessities. Currently, it was a stripped mess. The front of the store looked like it had sustained an explosion, having bent metal frames, not a single glass window intact, and it managed to look worse than how she last remembered—a common effect from the timing of the day.

Just outside of the deli were three reanimated tripping over miscellaneous debris that somehow made it outside,

"Got any bullets in that thing?" Ada asked, eager to proceed through the dead trio.

Although it was highly unlikely for her formidable cousin, she still convinced herself that there was a possibility that Emberly might be trapped inside due to the danger outside. Olimpia checked inside the cylinder of her revolver to be sure, seeing only one bullet left. Ada sighed and gave a look of uncertainty. If it were up to her, she would just use the bullet to kill one of them and do whatever else with the others. But it wasn't up to her. Her firearm belonged to Olimpia and she used it as she saw fit. Understanding, somewhat, the desperation that Ada felt, she chose to lure the dead away instead, instructing that Ada continue looking for clues while she returned after getting far enough.

Speechless, Ada nodded, reminding her companion to be careful and to lay low. Instantly, Olimpia walked a safe distance away from Ada and whistled the reanimated over towards her. One by one they turned their dull gazes towards her and trudged over the masses of junk in the road. Some tripped but overall managed to follow. Ada followed from afar until she reached the corner of the block, discreetly watching as Olimpia eventually broke into a full out sprint to lose the dead. As anxious as Ada was for her, it was a risk they had to take to get the answers they needed. Quickly, she walked back into the deli and carefully examined her surroundings. Following the only path, she was led from an open space to a thin one—entering a small bathroom with the door torn off. Inside had exactly two stalls. Recalling when she and Noel last escorted Emberly here, they trusted her enough for her to properly put her belongings away without supervision. However, although she wasn't an eyewitness, there was definitely something distinct about one of the ceiling tiles, almost as if someone had moved it out of place. Taking a step forward to further investigate, Ada kicked something with her boot, watching it slide across the moist floors. Bending down to observe, what she detected nearly brought tears to her eyes. It was a pair of spectacles with a single crack in one of the lenses. Holding it delicately almost as if it would shatter by the slightest movement, she quickly checked, seeing blood on the end of the temples. Ada's breathing picked up, nearly bursting into tears as her sinuses stung. Eventually, she folded the glasses and placed it into her coat pocket. Lifting her head momentarily, she spotted something else. Something she probably would've glossed over hadn't she been so close to the ground. In a nearby puddle of what Ada hoped was water, was an unlit cigarette. Cutting into her concentration, Olimpia briskly walked into sight, making Ada jump. Olimpia was breathless from the running. Thankfully, she didn't have to run an entire block and was able to throw off the reanimated halfway through the street,

"Wha-What are you doing?" she asked, hands on her hips.

Ada snatched the cigarette and took it for herself as evidence before standing. She handed the pair of glasses over to Olimpia. Olimpia, at this point, was overwhelmed by both fatigue and stupefaction. She couldn't believe her eyes. There was no question if it were the same pair she had been looking back at all these months. The only thing missing was a face to wear them. The young women stared at one another, unable to vocalize how they felt and the possible truth. However, Ada couldn't take it anymore. She always tried to remain strong, especially around Olimpia. It wasn't ever about not needing her, but one thing she always wanted to make clear to Olimpia was that she no longer had to be accountable for Emberly. She was thankful for everything Olimpia had done for her and she knew there was no way she could ever repay her except taking Emberly off her hands. But Olimpia was such a saint—and the rarest kind. She did so much without wanting anything in return and she acted like an older sister. Whenever Ada put on her strongest face, it wasn't just for herself or Emberly—but for Olimpia too. She knew that if she ever presented herself as needy or helpless, Olimpia would be there to pick her up as well, and she was against burdening Olimpia with that. Ada covered her eyes with her forearm as she suddenly wept into it.

"I'm sure she's fine," Olimpia shushed. She pulled her into an embracement, holding back tears of her very own. "We can't give up yet. We just can't. There's some sort of explanation," her voice cracked.

* * *

Emberly looked out of the windows as the scenery of woodlands smoothly reeled by like some old-time film. Although she was being abducted yet again, something about this seizing felt unusual. Maybe it had something to do with experiencing this already? Or maybe it had something to do with not fearing her captors. Despite what they were doing, her abductors spoke to one another as if they were in good company and weren't in the midst of kidnapping a freaking child. They idiotically hummed along to whatever century-old music cassette that played on their radio and they wore stupid shades. Fixing her posture, Emberly scoffed and looked into the rearview mirror, meeting the eye of the redhead male. The strangest part of all is that she knew his name. Both of theirs. For some odd reason, they were trying very hard to not be disliked by Emberly, but when you participated in something as heinous as this, there was nothing one could do to make up for it. From the conversations throughout the drive, she learned that the man's name was Brenton, whereas the woman introduced herself as Dakota but _insisted_ Emberly call her Kota. For the majority of the first couple of hours, Dakota tried making conversation, asking questions such as Emberly's name and interests, but Emberly did what Emberly did best and remained quiet.

"I have to pee," Emberly finally said.

Dakota looked over her shoulder and then at Brenton, to which he responded that she should wait since they were nearly at their destination, followed by a rude remark of deciding to finally speak. As much as Emberly wanted to make a snooty comment back, she held it in. However, just as they claimed, the vehicle turned into a neighborhood Emberly could somewhat make out as the vehicle approached. Confirming that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, she saw exactly what she thought: A fortified area with tall walls of galvanization and rusted chain-link fences. From a certain distance, you could see the peaks of rooftops and other houses in the area. Emberly peered through the partition in the backseat, as the gates were suddenly opened by someone on the other side. Brenton honked the car as a greeting to whoever it was that opened the gates. Revealing more than one, the men offered warm smiles and waved back at the drivers. Neither were men Emberly had ever seen before, keeping her eyes on them as she turned to continue gazing through the back window of the car. Facing forward, Emberly's eyes oddly followed the pedestrians in awe as the car carefully cruised through the residential streets. Finally seeing what looked like teenagers and their younger siblings unwinding on their lawn, benches, and porches, Emberly looked forward, knowing it was too good to be true that she was kidnapped to be brought into what seemed like a consistent and healthy community,

"Where am I?" she questioned, sounding more like she demanded an answer.

"Just calm down for a sec. You'll know all you need to know soon."

It was quite unsure how many people truly populated this ominous community, but there seemed to a good number of neighbors outside with one another. People were wrapped in jackets, walking in pairs to accompany another on their strolls back their houses. To avoid hitting what could've easily been a child running into the street after a ball, the drive was too slow and casual for Emberly's liking.

Eventually, the car was parked into what commonly looked like a dead-end. At the very end, the vehicle parked parallel to two other vehicles. Emberly watched as the siblings exited the car. It was until both siblings stood on her side to let her out. Fearful that she would be aggressively dragged out, she started off hesitant, but willingly stepped out as they gave her the opportunity to step out independently. Something about Kota saying, "C'mon? We haven't got all day," prompted her to rush. As soon as Emberly's boots touched the pavement, she felt a sense of promising, yet trivial, security. Before they could start walking, Emberly was given a few rules: To follow and not try anything funny because nothing humorous would come out of it. With Brenton leading the way and Dakota on her rear, Emberly immediately disobeyed and took a dive at it either way. She sprinted through the streets, pushing between two older women on the sidewalk, causing one of them to drop their coffee mug. Lacking a pack back, she felt extremely light on her feet and soared through the block almost as if she were gliding above the pavement. It had to be the fastest she'd ever run, especially in a pair of heavy boots. From afar, Brenton looked over, hearing a door slam from a notable home on the opposing side of the street. It was a teenage boy who held a promising place in the community.

"Aiden!" Brenton loudly addressed. Aiden was a teenage boy around the age of sixteen and although he was just a teen, his existence in this community was prominent seeing that he was the son of a big wig like many of his friends. After he heard his name being called, his eyes met Brenton's. He pointed at Emberly's back, "Quickly! She's cargo!"

The teen jumped off the porch and tore through the lawn catching up to Emberly within seconds. From the side, Emberly felt a massive jolt tackle her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She turned over, seeing Aiden's smile of smugness as he laid on the lawn beside her, proud of knocking her over as if he were linebacker preventing a score from the other team. Shortly afterward, Dakota caught up to them, swearing about Aiden's careless bruteness, claiming that he could've broken Emberly's neck. She was especially disappointed in her brother, hoping he would've had a different choice than depending on someone as wild as Aiden.

Eventually, Emberly was helped up and given one chance to comply—which she did. She was dizzy after taking such a plunge that maybe she needed some time to recover and think. The sudden jerk from that tackle felt like she sustained a car accident that could've shifted her organs. As she was taken away, she looked back at Aiden, who's smile still hadn't left his face. If there was anything Emberly wanted to do more than escape, in that very moment, it was to smack it right off.

As they strolled down the street, a large white ranch house came into view. Unlike a lot of the houses, it wasn't fenced off. Instead, it was open for anyone to enter and it felt a lot more like a landmark rather than an actual resident. Something about it made it stick out like a sore thumb apart from all of the others. Emberly was led alongside the house, examining her surroundings for anything that could possibly end up being useful. So, far—nothing. As they waited by what appeared to be a side entrance, that's when someone answered the door after the redheaded siblings constantly took turns knocking. It was an androgynous-looking woman with tanned skin and a chest tattoo of what appeared to be flora and dragonflies underneath her clavicles. Her dark, brunette hair was a stylish pixie cut with the right side completely shaven. She wore a beige and brown flannel, brown skinny jeans, and wore many accessories such as extra piercings on her ears, and wore rings on her fingers. Upon opening the door, she studied Emberly through the net of the screen door. She watched her as if she was your average delinquent, never having seen her face before.

"Can't this wait? I'm busy with an interview right now."

Brenton looked over at Dakota, who was afraid to give a response.

"Is Norman there?" Brenton requested, receiving a head shake from the woman, "then It can't," Brenton spoke up.

"And why not?" she sighed.

"Because she already tried running away. Aiden tackled her."

She exchanged a look of indecisiveness with Emberly, making the youngster avoid eye contact.

Before Emberly knew it, she was sealed in what appeared to be a waiting room. Surrounded by four walls, with chairs lined up along all sides except one consisting of a locked wooden door. Across from where Emberly sat was a large brick fireplace that felt as if it had grown out of the wall since the beginning of time. She was given a bowl of pretzels, a tray of peanut buttered crackers, and a cup of water. And as much as she refused to eat their "stupid food" she gave in faster than she thought she would, stuffing her face and finishing every last cracker and pretzel in front of her. It had been a whole year since she last enjoyed a salted pretzel and the zing it gave her tastebuds was something she missed, reminding her of the times she would buy snacks with her cousins after school.

After chugging down a huge cup of water, she stood up and walked around the room, picking up books underneath a nearby coffee table—books titled _Good to Great_ , _Moby Dick_ , and _To Kill a Mockingbird_ among other things. High above the fireplace was a photograph of the same tattooed woman and another woman who seemed to be someone close to her. They could've been sisters, maybe even lovers, but Emberly was careful to not humanize her captors. After a minute or so, Emberly's eyes met a window. She had noticed it before then but it wasn't until now that it registered in her mind that it could serve as an escape route. However, just in the nick of time, the tattooed stranger returned to open the door. Despite being a weaponless twelve-year-old, Emberly was mentally prepared for anything sudden, frantically searching the room for a potential weapon in case anything went south.

The woman, now in a t-shirt, waited by the doorway, showing off more tattoos on her impressively toned arms as she crossed them. Picking up fear from the moment she laid eyes on her, she harmlessly beckoned Emberly to follow, not exchanging a single word or taking her out of sight until she complied. Emberly carefully followed her into another room not too far from where she waited. The room was similar to a conference hall, only having brown and white tones to offset one another. The walls were painted white apart from the carpeted floors and the long table that was capable of seating eight people—ten if two more chairs were added to the ends. Taken by surprise, a sleek black feline ran itself beside Emberly's legs, brushing up against her and purring loudly,

"Velvet likes you," the woman acknowledged, hardly smiling. She held a composed demeanor that Emberly dared to challenge. She wanted to show that she wasn't bothered nor scared of a situation she had faced _and_ escaped before. Closing the door behind her, she pointed Emberly to a chair, "Please. Sit," she offered. Just as before, she waited in silence until Emberly slowly did as she was told, continuously looking around at opened boxes, random hung photographs, and more shelved books. Shortly afterward the woman eventually sat across from her and folded her hands, "Hello, there," she greeted oddly. Emberly didn't answer but it was clear that it wasn't going to prevent this woman from giving her the rundown on some of the rules here. She acknowledged that Emberly was a child but she was obviously a woman who didn't discriminate even when it came to age, "I heard you already met my son, Aiden," she tilted her head playfully, almost as if it was supposed to be an honor, "My name's Tuesday. And I guess you're probably wondering how or why you're here," she announced.

A sudden spark in Emberly's eyes confirmed that was all correct, but she couldn't give her all the glory,

"What gave it away?" Emberly brooded, tensing up in the chair.

Tuesday was taken aback at such a detrimental, yet fearless, response. She continued from where she left off,

"From what I've been hearing, you've been getting into a lot of trouble where you're from. Stealing and sneaking out?" Emberly looked away, slightly ashamed that this is what she had come to. Never in a million years did she think her name would be associated with thievery. These were the exact things that Adaline warned her of. So why was she here?! Tuesday cut into her thoughts and continued her phony orientation, "You've had some pretty dangerous people after you for a while now but you don't have to worry about them anymore. You're in a place where we can keep you safe and out of trouble."

Although she sulked in embarrassment, the latter statements, for some odd reason, coaxed her to speak. She felt that maybe if she fessed up, she could be sent back home. If this was some form of extrajudicial punishment, Emberly learned her lesson. She'd never steal again,

"What is this place?" her voice slowly rose, "Am I being arrested?"

The woman took in this naivete by surprise. Sometimes, working with children in Emberly's position, often made her forget that they were still just that,

"Something like that. Let's just say that you're here to be put to good use. The world didn't think it was right for a long time but things are changing… and we've been putting juveniles like you to work for a long time," Tuesday put it bluntly, "We'll be having you work to keep this community running. And if you're a good girl, we might not give you off to other communities."

Emberly put on her bravest face and held back tears. It could be heard in her voice,

"You mean...child labor?"

Tuesday didn't want to hear that word. It had been a while since a child called it out for exactly what it was,

"We don't like to call it that. I—"

"But that's what it is," Emberly cut her off, "What if it was your son?"

Tuesday tried to approach this from a different angle. For the first time in months, Tuesday could truly say she was being knocked off her game. She repositioned herself, this time folding her hands on the table and breaking eye contact more often. She was breaking character. There was no need to sugar coat things apparently. Knowing that Emberly was from the Underworld, Tuesday enlightening her that she was currently in the community of the Council and that Tuesday was an integral member of it. That's when it all made sense. The table, the photographs—a picture possessing each core member of the Council and Tuesday was amongst them. Each member brought something to the Council. Whether it was skill or currency, their contributions were widely appreciated and it was what helped their community thrive. Tuesday wasn't too precise on how she became a part of the council but it definitely had something to do with being a "herbalist" of some kind. The person in charge of this rounding up of children was someone else,

"I know what it might look like but I don't authorize any of this just to be clear," she finalized.

"You're just complicit in it?" Emberly sarcastically questioned, channeling Jolyn's wit.

Instead of a clear breakdown, it sounded more like Tuesday just wanted to make it seem like she played no part in the abduction. Growing up around Ada most of her life, she knew that remaining neutral in times of battle meant choosing the wrong side and that's what Tuesday did. She chose the wrong side.

Tuesday was offended by Emberly's unfiltered commentary. There were certainly children more rowdy and unruly than Emberly was, but she appeared sharp-tongued and Tuesday was bothered by the repercussions of that.

Suddenly, that's when a surprising knock was heard on the door. Assuming that it was one of her colleagues that could possibly help prevent the situation from worsening, Tuesday allowed the person to enter. Whomever it was, Emberly wasn't the mood to look. She was afraid it'd just be someone else who wanted to use her.

"Oh, hi!" Tuesday's demeanor changed, greeting them as if they were someone she didn't expect or regularly communicate with.

"I left my bag here," a familiar voice said.

At this point, Emberly felt compelled to look. Tuesday understood, pointing to a stack of three large boxes to the left of her, mentioning she had rested it there until his return. Although most of the figure was turned away, Emberly instantly recognized features of the stranger and something inside of her prayed that this wouldn't be like last time. From their build to their stained beige trench coat and beanie, it only spelled one person. As the young man retrieved his messenger bag and hauled it over his shoulders turning in the process, he was stunned to see Emberly sitting directly across from him.

She nearly burst into tears, squeezing her hands together underneath the table at the sight of Noel, who was staring back in silence. She regularly gagged at the sight of him but knowing that this could be her only way out nearly made her internally euphoric. If there was anything Emberly learned from all of this, it was to pick your battles, and choosing to be anti-Leroux wouldn't be the best thing.

Tuesday, who felt almost invisible, looked back and forth between the poker-faced pair,

"Everything alright?" Tuesday questioned him out of curiosity. She stood out of her chair, attempting to stand in between them.

Noel, nearly speechless, fought to get something out,

"Y-yeah. I just didn't know you recruited so young, that's all..."

Tuesday forced a smile and then chuckled,

"No, this is one of our colleague's children—" she looked over at Emberly, who was severely intrigued by Noel's presence, "Emberly," she introduced.

"Hi…" Noel greeted.

She stared back hoping for something more than just that. To Noel, the lies instantly led to a red flag and he took a moment to process it. Noel was involved in enough deception to feel comfortable with this. In fact, something about his "interview" never even felt right. He stood there, almost feeling powerless to do anything. As much as he wanted to grab Emberly and go, he wasn't exactly sure if it would be the right thing to do, even if it was just calling out the leaders on her lie. It was very clear that Tuesday had no intention of letting Emberly loose, so Noel let out a deep exhale and nodded, still bothered by all of this. Too close for comfort, that's when Tuesday decided it was best to escort Noel out. Claiming that she had much more important things to do, she stood by the doorway,

"Please," she insisted as he seemed to be firmly stuck in place.

Noel cautiously walked out, having floorboards creak longer with every gradual step he took. Once he was fully out, he waited until Tuesday turned away for him to nod at Emberly. Even though she wanted something more, it was taken as a promising signal. She turned away and faced forward, looking into her lap. She wasn't necessarily looking forward to Noel doing the rescue but she knew that word would get to Ada eventually. In the midst of all of Emberly's thoughts of possibilities, Tuesday remained at the doorway,

"Do you know him?" she questioned. Immediately, Emberly was prompted to shake her head no, denying the claim, but Tuesday wasn't easily fooled. She wasn't buying it. She reassumed her strict stance, crossing her arms with her legs shoulder-width apart, "I saw the way you two looked at each other. You _don't_ want to lie to me. I'll make you wish those dangerous people at the Underworld had you."

Emberly glared from the corner of her eye, believing that Tuesday meant every single word. But if the truth was what she wanted, it was the truth she was going to get. To prove that she knew things about him, she identified him,

"His name is Noel Leroux," Emberly admitted. She paused, squinting her eyes to observe Tuesday's stance somewhat ease after remaining truthful, "...and he murdered my family," she had a look in her eye that no one could misinterpret as fiction, "His family owned a farm. He knew my friends and family but...they fought," she sighed, recalling the memories, "he burned down our home..."

Emberly crumbled as she told the story yet again, realizing that all her hopes depended on a man who changed her life forever.

Tuesday recalled the interview with Noel and there were noteworthy things she could verify as truth such as his surname and family farm. However, with that out the way, her main concern how to recover from lying in Noel's face. Hopefully, it wouldn't ruin things between them.

"I'm sorry," Tuesday sympathized.

* * *

Noel exited the ranch and met his buddy, Taps, outside. Who was enjoying the view of what was soon to be called his home? Noel, who was against wasting _any_ time, grabbed Taps by the shoulder, forcibly escorting him off the ranch house property. Taps, who was taken aback by his approach yanked himself out of Noel's clutch, asking about the sudden haste,

"We have to leave now," Noel encouraged his friend. He eagerly searched the pockets of Tap's tapered slacks and then eventually brought his arms up to pat down his friend's leather jacket. Taps was so surprised by the swap of erraticism that he didn't say a word. Once Noel felt what sounded like jiggling coins, he reached into the pocket and pulled out a pair of keys—for a hatchback given to them by the council as a welcoming gift and trade for their business, "I'll explain it on the way back to the Underworld."

Noel hurried into the driver's seat, rushing his buddy Taps in the process. Quickly, he powered the car on and drove through the streets at a speed other residents of the community wouldn't recommend. They received odd stares from the people outside, but the only person who seemed to really give a shit was Taps, thinking it could ruin their chances of being welcomed and leave an awful impression about them. However, once the gates to the community were opened, Noel hit the road as quickly as he could.

* * *

Noel ran down the escalators, entering the Underworld with posthaste. He walked quickly, leaving bewildered Taps in his dust. Taps knew Noel for having quite a temper but as far as he knew, his current mood seemed to be unprovoked,

"Noel, bruv, what's going on with you, man?" Taps power walked after him, "Did you and Tuesday have a disagreement?" he began rambling like he normally did, "Bruv, I swear if you mess this one up for us like you did last time, I'll take a shoe and shove it right up your bumho—"

"No! Taps, No!" Noel grew slightly agitated, mostly by the complexity of the situation at hand, "It has nothing to do with Tuesday. I mean," he buried his face into his palms, sliding them down his face, "...it does but there's no time to explain right now," Noel said, continuing to push through congregations of Underworld dwellers.

Noel reached the place where Ada and Olimpia normally camped and as if things couldn't become more unfortunate, the two young women were nowhere to be found. Noel asked a couple of familiar faces who didn't know the girls by name but could easily pick them apart upon physical description. Ultimately, no one had seen the girls since morning. It was now past afternoon and would soon be the evening in just a couple of hours. Noel could wait until she returned but he was just too eager to find them. Although the Council was respected, they were notoriously known as a group you wouldn't want to cross. Noel heard stories of them banishing people or meeting with folks that had never been seen again. And if this was something Noel could prevent, especially when it came to Ada, he could never forgive himself for letting her down a second time.

Before returning to the world overhead, Noel scavenged every inch of the Underworld just in case he ever missed her. Obviously tired of being dragged everywhere like a cat on a leash, Taps offered to remain by Ada's camp just in case the pair of ladies ever returned. However, by the time Noel was done turning over every stone, he just couldn't seem to locate them anywhere. He returned to where he left Taps, hoping that the girls made it back, but to his dismay, it was the opposite. Dragging his warn out limps across the stained and dirty platform, Noel took a seat on top of an unoccupied bucket that was turned upside down.

"Never saw you lose your mind like that for a couple of broads," Taps said, chewing on something edible. He received a look of annoyance from the blonde and could sense a feeling of torment through his eyes. It was a look that Taps hadn't seen since Noel's earlier days in the Underworld—when he first came in from the outside. Carefully leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets, "What's the deal wif you and that Yank anyway? She your girlfrien' or somefing?" As much as Noel wanted to ignore him, Taps wasn't standing for it, "You said you were gonna fill me in. Well," he paused mid-shrug, "Now's your chance."

Noel was opposed to it at the very moment. Not only because he wasn't in the mood to tell the story, but because he was terrified that it'd be an invite for relentless judgment. At times, Noel would even be disgusted with himself, but Taps disagreed with the opposition and he wanted to know everything Noel was hiding. They had been friends for so long and yet he knew nothing about him. He couldn't let the secrecy between him and someone he thought was his friend ruin this once in a lifetime chance. Noel grimaced while looking away, feeling like he being poked with a stick. To Tap's dismay, all Noel could do was make him a promise that he'd know the full story when the time was right.

"Well, I hope that time's now," Tap's replied, "Look."

He pointed at two figures walking down the set stairs nearest the end of the station. Of course, to Noel, Ada was the highlight. Instantly, Noel stood up and beckoned Taps to follow. But Taps wasn't nearly as in a rush, taking his sweet time. When Noel called his former friend's name, Ada looked up, noticing the recognizable French-Canadian swiftly approach up to her as his trench coat danced inches above the floors.

"Not now, Noel," Ada rushed past, barely making eye contact.

Noel followed as Olimpia did the same, stepping in puddles produced by leakage from the pipes ingrained in the tunnel rooftops.

"I have something to tell you!"

Olimpia looked over her shoulder, scooting past a group of raucous people, all gambling with marbles near the center of the platform,

"It can wait."

"No, it can't!" Noel claimed as it was his turn to make it past the gambling group a _fifth_ time after running around so much. Seeing that it didn't grab either of their attention, Noel blurted it out, "I know where Emberly is!" He announced. As he hoped, both girls stopped in their tracks and looked back at him. Of course, there were looks of suspicion. He couldn't blame them, but he knew they were smart enough to not make such a vulgar accusation and listen to what he had to say instead. He nervously swallowed, "Is there a place where we can talk about this privately?"

In minutes, Noel and Taps were taken to the train cart that Olimpia and Ada shared with other under-dwellers—the last cart of the train was partially stalled in the opening of the subway tunnel. Carefully making sure they weren't followed, Olimpia opened the emergency entrance of the final cart and climbed out with Ada carefully landing on the tracks that were a good three feet below them. Once they were all out, Ada took it upon herself to light a measly, pre-existing campsite with Emberly's handy matches. The flames revealed a somewhat spacious tunnel, blocked off by stacked barrels, chairs, and other trashed belongings that were piled in over the months. Behind the dump were reanimated that managed to wander in from tunnels linked to other subway stations.

Looking over, Noel could see two reanimated, hissing and moaning as they put their arms through the tiny opened spaces in the heap of garbage. Mice squeaked and crawled away at the sight of all of the giants making themselves known, squeezing through the small holes in the walls.

Once they all got themselves comfortable, Noel explained everything as far as he could understand. Ada and Olimpia rested on a wall opposite the boys, seemingly impatient and manic.

"We have to get her," Ada begged, near tears.

It was a risky choice but if it meant helping Ada get back the one member of her family that she initially thought she lost, it would be demented to not help and get her back. It took Noel some time to unpack but he was in Ada's debt either way. He looked over at Taps, who gave looks of uncertainty. It wasn't until Noel agreed that Taps finally decided to step out of the shadows and speak up,

"So, what now? You three are just gonna waltz in there?"

Despite the girls not knowing Taps from a can of paint. His relationship with Taps made him the most eligible to respond, so Noel took it as an opportunity to speak on their behalf. Most notably, he disliked Tap's indirect exclusion of himself,

"Three?" Noel questioned. He scoffed, "Guess the Council really does mean that much to you, huh?" he asked. Taps didn't respond. He didn't know how. However, although Noel would've preferred he be loyal to someone he knew longer, he understood the desperation of wanting a safe place to sleep for the night. Taps had hidden scars that proved that this lifestyle just wasn't cutting it. Deep down, Noel was angry. Hell, he wanted to explode after all they had been through together, but there was one thing he had to understand. Noel sighed, "But at the end of the day...I get if you don't want to give any of this up. I'm just sorry it had to come to this," he grabbed Tap's hand for a shake, and held it for a period of time, "Just know that you'll always be my mate and if you ever need anything, I'll be right here."

Just as Noel prepped to lift himself back into the cart, Taps scoffed at himself and rolled his eyes.

"Wait," he looked at the three of them. "Shit I can't believe I'm doing this. Look, if a child's life is at stake here, I'm definitely going to help," this evoked smiles for each of them, "But I just don't think it's smart to just barge in there without some sort of plan. The least we can do is play along with the Council until we learn more."

Noel looked over at Ada, not voicing support nor opposition. All she was left to do was state a contrary argument,

"But she could be dead by then if we don't," she looked over at Olimpia, who also looked as if she was second-guessing. Ada blinked in disbelief, "Olimpia?"

"I didn't say anything," Olimpia recoiled. However, she did have something to say, "...I think he's right, Ada," she glanced at Taps, who was obviously appreciative of the support, "We know what the council can do to just the four of us. Who knows how many people they have. It's either we plan this out and all of us make it out alive or we die and Emberly stays there. Forever. We don't want that."

It was the last thing any relative wanted to hear but it was all making sense to Ada once she allowed herself to listen to them and put her impatience aside. This was her cousin she was talking about and if she genuinely cared so much, she'd tread lightly if it meant getting to see her in one piece and hug her again. Thinking back, Ada used to once be the logical one in situations such as these but now her judgment was constantly clouded by her inability to deal with such extreme trauma. She never imagined the day where Noel would be the level-headed one. He looked at her and promised her that they would get Emberly back safe and sound. Seeing that Noel and Taps were technically in an alliance with the Council now, she did have her doubts and had good reason to. Her past with Noel was one thing but Taps was someone who made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more than to get a slice of that enriched pie the Council was having. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't have much of a choice. It was three against one and she was alone on this if she tried to go on her own.

"Fine," Ada swallowed her pride, unable to look at anyone else in the eye, "We can wait."

At this point, everyone else departed while Ada stayed behind to clear her head. Although this particular spot was opened for others, they rarely took advantage of it and all it really took was some darkness and a campfire to feel like she was on a different planet. Here, she could let her guard down and not be too worried about the possible threats. Finding a spot near the campfire, she crossed her legs and daydreamed directly into it.

That's when Noel reappeared at the scene, hearing the crackling flames over the distant voices that seeped in from the rest of the Underworld,

"Can I sit with you?" Noel offered. Ada didn't exactly answer. Finding a comfortable spot beside her, he remained in silence with her, until it became too much for his liking, "It's pretty peaceful here…" he looked over at her, hoping to get a response out of her. Noel might have had a new outlook on his apocalyptic light, but he was still the Leroux at heart, and being ignored wasn't the prize he expected. Even if he didn't want trouble with her, Ada was the person who knew of his past, so showcasing his frustrations from time to time wasn't something that would come as a surprise to her,

"Wow," he gave a wistful grin. Ada stared at him, unsure of how to process his reaction. Finally, he turned to face her, "Even now, you still can't even try to look at me? You're being such an asshole."

"I just...I wanted to be left alone," Ada said, returning an endless gaze into the campfire. Noel looked over at her, noticing her face was drenched with tears, "My family's dead and the only cousin I have left is gone. Again" the thought of her family brought back memories and resentment towards the Lerouxs, which in turn made her unleash her wrath on Noel, "Why are you even doing this, Noel?"

Noel's nostrils flared,

"The hell does that mean?" He raised his voice, "I'm just trying to help for once! I know I did bad things but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like I'm not a goddamn person! I have feelings too!"

"All I'm asking is that you give me some space right now! Please!"

"No, Ada, I-" Noel started, but Ada stood up and began marching away. However, Noel wasn't handling this treatment well. Quickly standing, he grabbed her by the arm and she tore herself from him, "Will you just shut up listen to me for once?!"

She stared at him with eyes that glistened due to the combo of tears and fire. That's when Noel realized he probably had taken things a little too far. Reaching up, he wiped away a tear with his thumb, not wanting their allies to get the wrong idea if she emerged before him with such a hurt look. The most comforting part about it was that she didn't pull away in disgust this time. It gave him time to admire her beauty and, Jesus, he thought she was stunning. Ada suddenly began crying harder than usual,

"I just want my family back, Noel," she sharply inhaled before giving hard whimpers. She fought to get the words through her sobs, "I'm sorry, but whenever I see your face, I see my mom, I see my brother, I see Carlos," she took a ber, "...and I see your father."

Noel's eyes teared up as well, seeing the girl who was once so incredible, fall apart in his very presence with little to no pride left. There was nothing he could do but look away because it tore him up seeing her process such grief. He didn't know how else to convince her that he was a changed man who was deeply regretful for what he did. Not being forgiven was something he expected but it wasn't something he wanted,

"Aright…" his voice croaked, "I get it. If my presence is really that troubling around you then we should do this apart. If I can't owe it to you, then the least I can do is owe it to Emberly."

Ada's lashes were so drenched, they clung together whenever she blinked repeatedly. She looked away, sniffling and wiping her face even though the flowing tears didn't seem to stop. All she could do was nod. She moved aside from the emergency exit, giving Noel room to haul himself up onto the train's edge and climb into the cart. Due to the dimming light from the interior of the subway cart, the silhouette of Noel's figure was the only thing noticeable. He looked back at her and let out a defeated sigh before closing the emergency door shut.

Reaching into her pocket, Ada held onto Emberly's glasses as if she was holding her very hand.

* * *

Emberly did nothing for the entire day except be questioned and shown off as if she were a deal won at an auction. Because some fellow named "Zach"—who's job it normally was to give a day of orientation—wasn't around to get Emberly properly processed, she followed Tuesday around all day. It was nearly midnight and by the looks of it, Zach never showed up, despite the Council looking forward to it. So she had to undergo a different type of "admission".

Emberly was taken to a different location, now the garage of a large home that looked more than suitable for dwellers in the underworld—specifically her, her family, and friends. She looked around in awe until she was snapped out of her daydream by the slamming of one of the lockers. There were numerous gray lockers lined up against the wall and every one of them was fastened with a combination lock. Emberly's inquisitive eyes wandered to the other opened doorway in the garage. However, blocking the path was Tuesday, assuming the authoritative, stick-up-the-ass, stance as always.

"Goddamn asshole," Norman mumbled to himself. Norman was the Bangladesh token of the Council. He was a bald-headed, brown-skinned man in his late thirties and stood about five feet nine inches. He was of average build and what he lacked on his head, he made up for on his chin, having a well-groomed beard and facial hair. He wore a beige turtleneck with dark cargos and snow boots. Like everyone else, he was equipped with a knife at all times. He was said to have fought in Iraq but to Emberly, nothing seemed particularly interesting about that. Everyone was in their own war with the dead now. He continued complaining, "Why the hell is Zach even a part of this council if he can't even do his own goddam work!?"

"That's enough, Norman" Tuesday argued back with a tired groan, "Just give the kid her things so we can all go to bed."

Norman sighed and quickly opened the locker after the input of a combination and pulled out a wool blanket and pillowcase. After being told to hold out her arms, the very fabrics were put in them. That's when Tuesday was given the green light to go home and Norman, for the first time that night, seemed content in getting the rest of the job done on his own.

Emberly followed him outside and noticed that the community streets were deserted. That was until they both stopped after hearing some whispers coming from the shrubbery on the lawn. Norman froze in place and looked back at Emberly, who seemed a little too intrigued for her own good. However, for whatever reason, Norman became a little protective of her and placed a palm up to calm her,

"Don't be scared…" he attempted to calm.

She wasn't. Ordering her to stay put, Normal whipped out a flashlight before taking a few steps forward. Keeping it beamed at the area the sounds originated from, the bushes began to shake and whisper as if they were activated. Could it be who she hoped it was? Emberly braced herself, hoping that this would be her chance to surprise Norman from behind. However, a small pale hand jumped out from behind the push,

"Don't shoot! We surrender!" a young voice dramatically said.

A boy stood up, giggling as two others walked out with him—one Emberly underwhelmingly recognized as Tuesday's douche-flap of a son, Aiden. Similar to a neighborhood watchman, Norman aimed his flashlight into each of their faces and began to interrogate them. He picked up on the scent of alcohol and cigarettes but, instead, warned them about being out past curfew. And even though he sent them off with just a warning, they seemed apprehensive to leave, still finding their discovery something to laugh about. That's when Norman looked to the bushes one last time and noticed a fourth teen sneaking out from behind it. Quickly toggling his flashlight back on, Norman became speechless,

"Ameena?!" he shouted in surprise, "Ameena Khan?!"

The girl he referred to as Ameena wasn't nearly as humored as her friends. She stood a little taller than Emberly but was shorter than the other three teens. She was chubby, had long locks of hair tied back into a ponytail, and wore glasses.

"I didn't do anything, I swear," she whined and groaned, "I just watched. Don't tell mā..." Despite being told to return home, Emberly happened to grab her attention despite easily fading into the background, "Who's that?" Ameena asked, "Hey, what's your name?"

"She's business and she's none of yours. Now get inside the house."

Ameena did as she was told and followed her troublesome group of friends down the dark lake of a street. Norman appeared to be severely embarrassed and continued leading the way. As Emberly followed, she momentarily looked over her shoulder, seeing Ameena simultaneously do the same to check on her dad. However, as their eyes met, the young man's daughter decided to wave goodbye.

The walk wasn't too far but it certainly felt isolated from the rest of the community. She was brought to a house somewhat hidden deep behind the community. It was white, smaller than the other residential houses, and was deep behind the community, well hidden behind the bushes and nude trees. While she patiently waited, Normal found the correct keys and unlocked the entrance. Norman reached in and turned on the light switch that was closest to the doorway and stepped aside, thus allowing Emberly entry before him. He shut the door behind him and led her past what looked like a cozy looking living room with two large sky blue sofa couches, wooden tables with lamps, and a hideous cow-spotted rug in the center. Reaching a doorless bedroom, he stepped in and pounded on the wall. There were groans and moans coming from all areas of the room. There was a set of three bunk beds and in them were all girls,

"Wake up, you have a new roomie," Norman sounded far from enthusiastic, "Hurry, let's make this quick so we can all go back to bed," he rushed. Each bunk bed had one girl in it and once they were all awake, Norman left it up to them to properly introduce themselves. He pointed at one of the girls with red hair, "Denise, you know what to do. Help her get settled. You have thirty minutes until the lights go back out,"

Denise groaned and threw her head back onto her pillow, tossing the sheets over her head. Norman looked over at Emberly and advised her not to worry and that she'd get along with these girls fine. She awkwardly watched him smile in silence until he turned away and departed. She listened closely as she heard his footsteps reach the exit and slam the door shut behind him.

Denise exhaled in exhaustion and forced herself to sit up and she looked undoubtedly older than the rest. She had auburn hair cut short like a boy's with pale, freckled skin and had captivating, bright blue eyes. She wore black nail polish, a crapload of black eyeliner, and a black choker,

"So, what's your name?" Denise questioned, to which Emberly didn't feel comfortable responding to. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked away. Denise, who was impatient of the current bullshit to ruin a good night's rest, stood up and approached Emberly. However, before she could even step within a foot of her, she aggressively fanned the air and began coughing nearly gagging, "Holy crap, you smell like shit."

"Be nice, Denise…" one of the other girls said. She was of unclear East Asian descent and had dark brown hair and eyes and had somewhat of a deep voice. Her hair was stick-straight and shoulder-length.

"What? She does," she briefly turned. Without much effort, she grabbed Emberly's blanket and pillowcase and tossed it above the bunk bed of the third girl who had yet to introduce herself. Afterward, Denise gave a breathy laugh at herself and looked at Emberly before speaking, "I wasn't trying to be mean. If you'd like to take a quick five-minute shower, I can just give you one of my shirts to sleep in," Denise didn't get an answer from her but she kindly advised her to follow if Emberly wanted to experience a hot bath. Emberly glanced back at the other girls, presuming that something suspicious must've been at hand. Seeing the second girl silently tell her to follow, Emberly cautiously followed her to a bathroom that was on the same floor. Its light gave it warmth. It was of moderate size, possessed two sinks, a large mirror, and a bathtub that Emberly would consider luxurious to bathe in. Denise grabbed a shirt and some shorts that were left to air-dry on one of the hangers and handed it to her,

"You can wear this for the rest of the night. Water automatically cuts off after ten minutes. So try and be quick," Denise kindly exited the room.

This gave Emberly a chance to somewhat process what she had been going through. She didn't know whether to scream or cry. Sitting on the toilet seat in silence, she observed the clothing air drying on the rack to her right. Eventually, she got up and played with the single-knob, adjusting the temperature of the shower until it was perfect. Using just her hands, she lathered herself in soap. Momentarily, scratching her forehead, she glanced back down at her hand, noticing a random tinge of red on her fingertips. Thinking she was bleeding, she touched her forehead again, realizing she had tiny bits of reanimated remains around her hairline. Quickly, she took her messy pair of pigtails buns apart and quickly ran through them with water. The amount of blood tangled in her roots, to her, was indescribable and she could only imagine there had been about eight different types of the dead in her hair. Seeing the pink water swirl down the drain was somewhat of a weird experience—that the very monsters she left behind for dead were still with her. She was crouched, scrubbing soap into the roots closest to her hairline and realizing that there was even more compiled in the grooves of her ears. Who knew that going so long without a shower had the potential to make you forget how to properly have one? Just as she was getting ready to wipe the running soap from her forehead, the shower clicked off. She stared at the hose and tippy-toed to hit it. _Shit!_ She recalled what Denise said about the timed showers and had just received some burning sensations in her eyes due to the soap slipping into the corners of them. Whatever kind of soap it was, it was beginning to feel like acid and she was holding in squeals from it burning her eyes so much. Clenching them shut as they began to redden and tear, she kicked something behind her in the tub. Peeking down through one eye, she saw a basin of water and quickly dropped down to splash it unto her face. Doing it enough times until her eyes were rightfully eased, she took a better glance at the basin, seeing what looked like washcloths inside of it. However, as she looked closer, she realized they weren't washcloths at all—they were boxer briefs that appeared to be hand washed. She groaned to herself, rather wanting to smear reanimated blood back on her face.

After she was finished, she quickly changed into Denise's shirt, having it reach slightly past her thighs. It was large and droopy on her but it was comfortable enough for her to relax in. Looking in the mirror, with what appeared to be removed lightbulbs above it, was the first time in months she had let her hair down. Her head of tight curls grew over the year and was now falling a little past her shoulders. Due to its texture and recent wash, it appeared more bouffant than it typically did. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, the lights went out, prompting her to look up at the ceiling lights. Quickly, she took this as her chance. Silently fleeting past the bedroom, she ran to the house door that wasn't too far up from the corridor she walked out of. However, up close, she realized that there was no doorknob at all. Instead, there was just a flat, gold, metallic stump in the place of it, obviously serving the purpose of keeping the children confined.

"You're not getting out of here," a voice surprised Emberly. She turned around, seeing no one around. At first, she figured that her vision must've really gone to shit, but was soon instructed to look up by a voice she had never heard before. Emberly saw two slightly blurred figures. Squinting and attempting to focus, it was slightly difficult considering the darkness and her nearsightedness. It was Denise looking over the white & wooden banister on the second floor. This time, she was standing next to a tall, active-looking brunette boy with blue eyes, "We've tried that already. More times than you think," she commented snarkily, not necessarily sounding unhappy about it, "No one's ever made it out."

Of course, the answer was a letdown, but knowing that no one's _ever_ escaped made her wonder if it was because they were all youngsters. Emberly removed her gaze from them and walked towards the doorless girls' room. Before entering she turned to look up at them, seemingly unable to remove their gazes from her,

"Thank you," Emberly expressed her gratitude, eventually entering the bedroom.


End file.
